


Your Hand in Mine

by seekrest



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), Spider-Man (Video Game 2018)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Found Family, Friends to Lovers, Grief/Mourning, Hurt Peter Parker, Not Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie) Compliant, Peter Parker Has a Family, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Protective Peter Parker, and this is how he proves it, peter is a hero
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-05
Updated: 2020-04-26
Packaged: 2021-02-27 09:06:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 57,230
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22134508
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seekrest/pseuds/seekrest
Summary: Peter sees it before Karen says it, turning his head and looking up and into the sky - an alien ship of some sort.His senses are ringing, screaming that there’s danger ahead but Peter just keeps swinging towards it.Something is happening.Something is wrong.
Relationships: May Parker (Spider-Man) & Peter Parker, Michelle Jones/Peter Parker, Peter Parker & Sam Wilson, Peter Parker & Shuri, Peter Parker & Tony Stark
Comments: 391
Kudos: 540





	1. Arrival.

**Author's Note:**

> Been wanting to do an IW rewrite for a minute and then this idea came to mind.
> 
> Shoutout to [ blondsak](https://archiveofourown.org/users/blondsak) and [hailingstars](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hailingstars) cause if not for their screams, this would’ve been a one-shot and now it’s... something else entirely. 
> 
> :)

“What do you think Karen, Thai or lasagna tonight?” Peter asked as he sent a web out, flinging himself off a building as her voice echoed in the mask. 

He was technically on his lunch break but Peter had never been good about staying away from helping out when he could, squeezing in some patrol time and figuring out the source behind some air pollution that he’d picked up from glancing through social media. 

Peter glances around, the mask zeroing in on polluted air as he adjusts his body towards it - knowing that swinging through it would give Karen the chance to collect the sample. 

“You had Thai last night, Peter. I would suggest lasagna to have variety.” 

“Variety’s the spice of life but why mess with a good thing?” Peter asks as he lets the air rush past him - coughing as he does so. 

“Was that enough? Did I get enough?” 

“That’s perfect, Peter.” Karen chimes, Peter swinging away from the polluted air as best he could. “I’ll forward the results to FRIDAY.” 

“Hold on.” Peter does a flip, focusing his mask back on the source - a massive truck that from Peter’s quick search before donning the mask was due for a recall - before saying, “Snap a picture of this and send it with it. I want to be sure that once we identify what the substance is, we have some kind of proof so we can document it. Could be an honest mistake but if it’s not, I want to know what we’re getting into.”

“Certainly, Peter.” Peter doesn’t hesitate to swing away, knowing his AI would do the job as quickly as he asked it - sending out another web and swinging away. “I’ve taken the liberty of rotating the picture so that the members of your lab don’t question your extracurricular habits.” 

Peter laughed and let the web carry him, relishing the feeling of the air rushing around him. 

Nearly eight years after the bite and this - this _feeling_ \- was something he didn’t think he’d ever get over. 

The sharp turn around a corner, the rush of being suspended in the air - seconds where the momentum carried him, lifting him as the sounds of the city faded away as he closed his eyes - right before he would send out another web, swinging him forward and through the city. 

It was physics - kinetic energy in motion, a protracted free-fall. 

But to Peter it felt like flying. 

He’s swinging, moving forward - up then down - thinking of some kind of reply to Karen and letting the momentum carry him only for the hairs on the back of his neck to suddenly raise, tensing as he looks at the air around him.

Peter sees it before Karen says it, turning his head and looking up and into the sky - an alien ship of some sort, circular - resembling something reminiscent of a donut. 

His senses are ringing, screaming that there’s danger ahead but Peter just keeps swinging towards it, something unnamed churning in his gut that something is happening, something dangerous hovering ahead of him. 

Something is wrong.

“Peter, I’m reading that an an unknown entity has arrived into the atmosphere.”

“I see it.” Peter answers, adjusting his webs to swing towards it. “Call Tony.” 

Karen does so immediately, the call ringing in his ears as he swings towards the donut looking ship. He didn’t make a habit of calling on Tony anymore for Spider-Man things, the years of experience and trust between them giving Peter the kind of confidence that only comes with time. 

Peter could still vividly remember the days when all he had wanted was to become an Avenger. But after a homecoming date from hell, the world had settled a little bit more for Peter - keeping himself closer to the ground even as he graduated from high school and moved into college. 

Now, two years after graduating college and working full-time at SI - filling the rest of his time as a friendly neighborhood Spider-Man, it was as if he’d created something of a real life for himself. 

Working in one of the biotech labs of SI, developing medical devices that could save thousands. Saving people more directly as Spider-Man, graduating from grand theft bicycles but keeping himself near the city. 

May not so subtly pushed him to date more, to have something like a balance in his life but considering how his last relationship ended, Peter didn’t mind. There was a rhythm to the life that he had now, one that he enjoyed - a balance in a different way, of being able to handle his life as Peter Parker and his life as Spider-Man. 

Something he hadn’t ever really thought possible when he was sixteen. 

It helped that the world had found a small semblance of peace - a balance that Peter was quickly beginning to feel like it was all going to unravel the faster he swung through the air. 

The rogue Avengers had come to an uneasy agreement with each other over the years, the Accords having been dissolved while he was in college for reasons that Peter didn’t really care to know. 

But they were still scattered around the world, underground Hydra cells and other terrorist threats keeping them abroad and busy. 

Peter had a handle on the hero thing by now, but there was something gnawing at him, a feeling telling him that this wasn’t something that he would want to handle alone. 

The phone rings once then Tony answers. “Kid, I’m a little busy--”

“Tony, you see this?” Peter cuts him off, swinging closer and closer to where the donut ship in the sky is. His senses are blaring at him now, telling him to run - to move away - but he can’t, another feeling pushing him forward. 

Tony had told him of his nightmares over the years, quiet nights in the lab where Tony talked about his vision in the sky of alien ships and far off threats. Of the dangers that felt like it creeped around every corner.

It was something to prepare for, something always in the back of his mind whenever Peter would hear of some new maniac in the streets of New York… something that never came. 

He’d fought a scientists with mechanized tentacle arms, an idiot in a rhino looking suit and an illusionist with with too much time on his hands - all on his own. 

But nothing compared to the feeling of dread in Peter’s gut as he swung closer and closer to where the ship was coming in, a sense that he wasn’t going to have to worry about dinner plans if he didn’t get this under control. 

He sees a call from May on his display, hearing Tony’s grunts on the other line.

“Kid—“

Karen provides him Tony’s location then, seeing that he’s in the suit by Washington Square Park - changing his direction and heading towards where Tony is as the line beeps again.

“I’m on my way. Karen, tell May I’m okay.” He trusts the AI to send the message and swings himself forward, willing for himself to go faster for reasons he can’t explain yet trusts anyway.

His senses hadn’t failed him in the eight years he’s had them. 

Peter hoped they wouldn’t fail him now. 

* * *

Peter hears it again before he sees it, Tony and someone that sounds vaguely familiar, arguing as the pulsars from the Iron Man armor whine as Tony fights someone off. 

“Tony? You okay? How we doing, good or bad?” The voice asks, Peter’s throat constricting as he tries to swing faster - already imagining that Tony’s in a bind and that he’ll be too late to save him, only for a small wave of relief to come through as he hears him reply, “Really, really good. Really good. You planning on helping out here?” 

Peter doesn’t pay attention to the other man’s reply because then he can see them, a massive almost ten foot alien looking being bursting through a building and sending some kind of hammer towards Tony and the man.

Tony pushes him and the other guy, someone in the back of Peter’s mind his brain supplies as being vaguely reminiscent of Bruce Banner, as he swings forward. 

It’s seconds before he gets there, but it’s enough for Peter to see Tony blast the alien - a shield put up and blocking it out, severing some of the trees nearby. Peter could already hear the Bugle’s arguments that Iron Man was laying waste the local wildlife, doing a quick scan of civilians and not seeing anyway as Peter barrels forward. 

Tony was an excellent fighter, Peter had seen him in action plenty of times over the years but this guy keeps getting the drop on him - grabbing him and swinging him hard across the ground. Peter leaps forward, flinging himself between Tony and the alien, only seconds before Tony was about to get hit by what he can only describe as a large hammer. 

“Hey man.” Peter says as he blocks the punch, the alien in front of him giving him a look that’s a mix of confusion and a snarl as Peter turns back to Tony.

“What’s up old man? Thought you and Pepper were on vacation.” 

“Kid, where’d you come from?”

“Field trip to MoMa. What do you think—“ Peter doesn’t get the chance to finish his statement, the alien grabbing his midsection and flinging him into midair, skidding for a moment before hitting the fountain. 

Peter flips straight back into action, sending out webs and swinging back towards the fight - punching back as Tony starts blasting him. 

“What’s this guy’s problem, Tony?”

“Uh, he came here for space.” Tony said through the coms, Peter never being more thankful that they were always linked to each other with the suits. “He came here to steal a necklace from a wizard.”

 _What a lunch break_. Peter thinks to himself, swinging towards Tony only to get caught again - the grip around his midsection tight enough that he feels winded for a second as he’s flung back into the air. 

_Fuck, come on_. Peter uses a taxi that’s been sliced and thrust into the air to redirect his momentum, flinging it back towards the alien and propelling him back towards Tony. 

“Pete?” 

“Fine, Tony. I’m fine.” He swings forward, watching as Tony gets slammed down by the alien’s hammer-looking thing - landing only a few feet away as his mind races, taking in the situation. 

Whatever this guy’s problem, he clearly wasn’t communicative and for as good as Tony was - he was getting beat, _hard_. Peter ran through the scenarios in his head, calculating the distance between him, Tony and the alien and the variety of debris in their way. 

The alien was top-heavy, brute force clearly even if his senses were still screaming at him - telling him that there was more danger than what was in front of him. From size and strength alone, he reminded Peter of the rhino idiot - thinking that if he could somehow short-circuit the hammer thing he as that maybe it’d send enough of a shock to the system that he could knock him out. 

Only for something to fly past Peter, taking his eyes off Tony for a second as it flies under the arch. 

“Pete, that’s the wizard--”

“On it.” Peter answers, trusting that if Tony was directing him towards something else - even if his own senses were telling him to run, to swing away, to get as far as possible - Peter listened to Tony. 

Whatever threat was out there, this was the priority. Because while the thought of the alien that he’d been fighting crushing Tony still stirred something in Peter’s gut, there was a greater sense that the fight - the _real_ fight - was elsewhere. 

* * *

_What the fuck. What the fuck. What the fuck._

Peter held on as tightly as he could to the alien ship, glancing down as the city started to get smaller and smaller as the ship went up into space. 

For someone who had made a habit of flinging himself off of buildings as a hobby for the better part of eight years, this was the highest that Peter had ever been off the ground - glancing down before righting himself again - climbing up higher as he shook his head. 

It reminded him of the rush of fear that he felt in the first few weeks he’d gotten his powers, the _first_ free-fall that he’d ever done - terrified of heights but doing it anyway, trusting a sense that he couldn’t explain then that he’d be okay. 

Peter wasn’t sure if he still held on to that feeling - clutching the side of the ship as he made his way forward, cursing the fact that he never thought what he was doing through and already wishing that he’d actually _called_ May instead of texted her.

 _Calm down. Calm down. Calm down. Oh fuck_. Peter held on as the ship started to shudder, clearly moving past the earth’s atmosphere. 

“Unlock 17-A.”

He can hear Tony in the distance through the comms, the sound of his voice calming in a way that it hadn’t in years - relief that he was okay and also that he wasn’t far behind. 

“Pete, you gotta let go.” 

“Tony--” But Peter’s cut off, his lungs suddenly feeling like they’re working overtime as he wheezes. 

“Fuck, I can’t-- I can’t breathe.” Peter flings the mask off, his mind spacing out - wondering how thin the air was up here as Tony confirms what he’s thinking. 

“We’re too high up. You’re running out of air.”

“Yeah,” Peter nods, feeling his grip on the ship start to lessen - less because of his powers or the change in atmosphere and more because he feels incapable of holding on to consciousness, much less the ship. “That makes sense.” 

Peter tries to hold on tighter to the ship but feels that he can’t, his head lolling backwards as his chest heaves - unable to hold on to anything as he slips. 

It’s just like it is in the city - free fall, suspended in air - falling backwards as his eyes start to close only to get hit forcefully from behind, the shock of it pulling him back to consciousness just as he hits the other part of the ship, _hard_ \- feeling the suit envelop him. 

He knows what it is, the oxygen in the recalibrated suit giving him the chance to focus again. It’s the suit that he and Tony had been working on for years, for exactly this reason - a far off threat that Peter had started to believe or maybe even hope would never come. 

“Smells like a new car in here.” Peter laughs, his grip on the ship steady as Tony glances back to him. 

“Perfect. FRIDAY, send him home.” 

“FRIDAY, don’t--”

The parachute deploys before he has the chance to say anything, flinging backwards as Tony flies out of sight. 

But Peter’s quicker than FRIDAY, something Tony should’ve guessed as he sends out a web and latches on to the ship again - pulling himself into an enclave as he looks back towards earth, watching as it starts to get smaller and smaller. 

His heart is pounding in his ears, one hand on the ship as the walls start to close in on him - a rush of adrenaline and fear as he realizes that this was a trip that he wouldn’t be easily coming back from. 

Guilt floods him at the reminder of May down there, anxiously watching the news - the two of them no doubt having already been caught by cameras as they rushed off into space. 

Peter can’t give himself the opportunity to panic yet, not when Tony and some wizard were still in the ship - knowing that if the alien in the park and the ship that they were on were any indication, _this_ was the thing Tony had spent over a decade preparing for. 

He wasn’t going to let him fight this alone, backing up as he shook his head. 

“Sorry May.” 

* * *

Peter climbs across the walls of the ship, annoyed with himself that he flung his previous mask somewhere in space - wishing he had Karen to scan the ship but not wanting to risk asking FRIDAY for help just yet and alerting Tony that he was here. 

It was ridiculous, the feeling that crawled all over him - like Tony finding him would be like him catching his hand in the cookie jar. But Peter couldn’t escape it, the sense of dread building as he took in his surroundings. 

This was it, he could feel it in his gut - the thing and the fight that Tony had been preparing for, the far-off visions and nightmares no longer feeling like worries of a man who worried too much. 

Peter could still vividly remember the Battle of New York, hiding under the table with Ben and May as aliens and the Avengers fought - Ben holding him tighter as Peter clutched his Iron Man toy to his chest. 

“We’re gonna be okay, Pete.” Ben had whispered, catching him and May share a glance - even then catching on to the fact that he was trying to reassure himself just as much as he was trying to assure Peter. 

New York had faced a lot of threats since then, but nothing to the same magnitude - a part of Peter feeling as if the years that had passed since then had made them all complacent, even if Tony had never felt that way. 

Peter stops when he hears a voices, tilting his head as they echo throughout the ship. He listens in, hearing the taunts from one - asking another for a stone. Peter can hear Tony too, the clanking of his suit as he tried to stealthily walk towards where the other men were. 

Tony was going to be pissed at him for staying on the ship, but he couldn’t stop Peter. 

Peter may not have been a ranking member of the Avengers but that had been a choice.

While a trip to space wouldn’t have been his first thought as far as initiations went, it was too late to back up now. 

He sees him and something that looks like the cloak that the wizard had on, tilting his head as it taps Tony on the shoulder. Peter has to hold back a laugh as Tony raises a pulsar at him, hearing him say, “Wow, you’re seriously a loyal piece of outerwear aren’t you?” 

Peter bites the bullet, thinking that it was now or never as he swings down. “Speaking of loyalty...”

The incredulous look on Tony’s face is priceless, just moments before it turns to anger, his eyes widening as he says, “What the fuck?”

“Tony--”

“You shouldn’t be here.” 

“Tony, I wasn’t going to--” Peter starts to say but Tony interrupts him, taking a step forward - the fear so clear in his eyes that it makes Peter take an involuntary step back. 

“This is a one-way ticket.” Tony says through gritted teeth. “What the hell were you thinking?”

“That this it,” Peter says, matching Tony’s gaze - straightening his shoulders as he looks Tony dead in the eye. He’d grown a little since high school, not quite taller than Tony but enough that he’s able to look at him eye-to-eye, seeing the glint of fear turn to fury in Tony’s eyes as he says, “this is the fight that you’ve-- that _we’ve_ \-- been preparing for.”

“This isn’t _your_ fight, kid.” Tony says but Peter just presses his lips together. 

“I’m not a kid anymore, Tony.” 

Tony studies him for a second, grinding his teeth in frustration. It was a talk that they’d had plenty of times before over the years, the slow transition from teenage superhero to fully-capable adult being harder on Tony that it had ever been on May. 

Going to college in the city, working at SI - it gave Peter a sense of connection with Tony that he could’ve only dreamed about in growing up, the man in front of him feeling just as important to him as any other person he’d ever had in his life. 

Peter had never had much luck with father figures - his dad dying when he was seven, Ben dying when he was fourteen - but Tony was still there, had seen him through high school and all of college, through bad break-ups and more trips to the medbay than either of them would like, not so jokingly arguing that Peter was the reason for why he’d grown prematurely grey. 

It was something of a joke for May in the early years - after she’d worked through her anger that Tony had kept such a massive secret from her - that she’d never thought she’d be co-parenting a teenager with a billionaire. 

But she had - they both had been there for Peter. And the thought of allowing Tony to head off into the unknown alone was something Peter would’ve never been able to reconcile with himself. 

Peter can almost hear Tony’s mind racing as he breathes out hard through his nose, shaking his head in frustration even if Peter can see the resignation in his eyes. 

“This is it, Tony. You’re not doing this alone alright?” 

Tony looks at him in the eyes again, a short nod in his direction before tilting his head towards the two men below them - Peter glancing over as he walks forward and crouches down, studying the scene before him as Tony sighs. 

“We got a situation here.” 

* * *

_This is the weirdest fucking day_. Peter thinks as his stomach grumbles, not allowing himself the chance to regret not actually grabbing lunch when he swung out of his office window earlier. 

It was a miracle that no one at SI - that no one in New York - had figured out his identity by now, for as much as he made a habit of jetting off in the suit at work. But Peter pushed that out of his mind for now, a problem for another day as he took in his surroundings. 

He wants to pinch himself - thinking that if he had his cell phone, much less cell service, that he’d text Ned, that _Star Wars_ was nothing like how space and aliens really were.

An argument in an alien spaceship between a doctor who was also a wizard. Crash landing on an alien planet. Allowing some earth guy _also_ named Peter to get the jump on him. Peter attributed to his blood sugar getting low but it was the adrenaline that was sustaining him, fingers tapping as he looked around at the planet they were on. 

He and Ned used to daydream shit like this, a far-off possibility that in a million years - Peter never would’ve guessed would be his reality. 

But here he was, listening to Tony argue with the other Peter about what to do about Thanos - only to get distracted when a voice speaks out, the lady who looked almost like a bug saying, “Excuse me. But does your friend often do that?”

They all stop - Peter turning to face Doctor Strange, watching in amazement and in horror as a greenish glow enveloped his hands, his head bobbing and changing - almost as if he was a player in a video game, fizzling out and coming back into focus. 

He hears Tony ask him if he’s alright before rushing forward, Peter not far after him as Strange comes out of it. 

“What was that?” Tony asks, Strange looking at him differently as he exhales heavily - eyes flitting over to Peter before looking back at Tony. 

“I went forward in time to view alternate futures. To see all the possible outcomes of the coming conflict.”

Peter can feel the tension in the air, the shaky breaths of those around him as the other Peter asks, “How many did you see?”

Stranger answers him, saying, “Fourteen million, six hundred and five.”

The silence feels so heavy and so thick, Peter could slice through it - Tony asking the question they all seem to want to as he leans in. “How many did we win?”

Strange is silent for a beat, catching his breath as he locks eyes with Peter. 

Not even an hour ago, the man had looked at him like he was an annoyance - a stowaway, arguing that if it came between choosing Tony or him that he’d let them die without a moment’s glance. 

But the look in Strange’s eyes is overwhelming - a look that he’s seen before in another man’s face, one of the greatest men Peter knew - just moments after he’d been shot and before he’d died in Peter’s arms. 

It’s a look of regret, of sorrow and overwhelming pride - nonsensical from the man that it was coming from. 

Strange takes a breath, exhaling again as holds Peter’s gaze. 

“One.” 

* * *

Peter comes to with a heave, eyes snapping open and taking in the orange sky. 

_Tony_. 

Peter winces, forcing himself up - mentally tallying up the injuries he’d accumulated in the fight that had all gone terribly wrong. 

They’d had it - they’d _had_ it - Peter had been seconds away from taking the gauntlet away from Thanos when the other Peter - Quill, his oxygen deprived mind provides - had lost his shit. 

It’d all gone to hell from there, Peter trying and failing to save the rest of the people who were supposed to be on their team as Thanos, Strange and Tony fought it off. 

Peter had been right there, he’d _had_ the gauntlet in his hand, kicking himself as he makes sense of his surroundings. 

There’s a pounding in the back of his head, likely from the piece of a fucking _moon_ that had landed on the planet - feeling the bruise of his ribs as he sat himself up. 

His neck was fine, arms and legs all accounted for - Peter’s first focus being on Tony, knowing that he’d only gotten hit because he’d been distracted by watching the two of them fight. 

“Tony.” 

He limps forward, looking around to see him half-crouched on the ground, clutching his side in a way that causes the panic to bubble up in his throat as he rushes towards him. 

“Kid, I’m fine--”

“FRIDAY?” Peter ignores him, waiting for the AI’s response only to hear nothing - taking in the damaged nanosuit. 

The nanites were supposed to handle anything - everything and anything that could possibly come his way. It’d been a thorn in Pepper’s side, Peter knew now from personal experience how obsessive Tony could be - wildly protective and considering all the possibilities of what could go wrong. 

But Tony hadn’t been able to anticipate this - wondering where the hell Thanos had gone, what they were going to do next, but more importantly, how Peter was going to stop the bleeding - even if Peter could see now that he was closer that Tony had applied some of the nanites to the wound. 

“Shit.” Peter mutters to himself, helping Tony up. “You okay?” 

Tony nods, grunting in a way that told Peter was _not_ okay as he looks back to Strange - an unreadable expression on his face. 

Something had been said between the two of them, something that Peter wants to press on but doesn’t - his senses starting to go haywire as he looks back to Tony. 

Something’s wrong - Peter can feel it in his gut, hearing something almost like thunder in the distance as his hand braces against Tony only for Tony to walk forward as the alien woman with antennae says, “Something’s happening.”

It’s screaming at him, danger everywhere - the feeling that he’d had earlier that day when the donut ship first entered the atmosphere roaring back to life. It’s a feeling Peter can’t describe, terror personified as he looks over to her only for his eyes to widen at how terrified she looks.

Not even a second after speaking, she turns to him - looking at him horror before disappearing right in front of his eyes. Peter’s breath catches, seeing out of the corner of his eye as the blue woman, machine or alien Peter didn’t know, disappears - fading into dust just as the antennae woman had. 

He hears a soft a soft “Quill” but doesn’t turn to watch, horrified as he takes a step towards Tony. Peter puts a hand to his shoulder, to ground himself and prevent the shock of what was happening overwhelm him only to hear Strange speak, looking at him in confusion as he says, “Peter.” 

The look on his face is there again, a look that Peter can’t make sense of - something almost akin to regret as he shakes his head and says, “There was no other way.”

He disappears, Peter swallowing down the wave of panic in his throat only for it to overwhelm him - his senses screaming at him that there trouble still coming. 

Trouble arrives not even a second later, feeling his stomach drop at Tony’s voice. 

“Pete.”

Peter meets his eyes and it’s like the air’s been sucked out of his lungs. He can see the edges of one of Tony’s hands begin to crumble but his brain doesn’t register what’s happening, Peter’s head shaking as his grip on Tony’s shoulder tightens. 

He watches in horror as Tony extends a hand out towards him, the ghost of a hug that Peter leans forward to give only for Tony to disappear just as Strange had before him - crumbling into dust before he even gets the chance to respond. 

“What-- what just happened?” Peter can hear Quill ask, his hands shaking as he glances at the dust - at _Tony_ \- in his arms, watching in horror as it fades away. 

There’s more thunder in the distance, the danger and the panic all creeping around him as Peter takes a shuddering breath - sinking down to his knees. 

Quill is still talking in the distance, saying something that Peter can’t make sense of - his hands still shaking as he tries to make sense of something that felt impossible. 

He’d been collecting air pollution samples a few hours ago, joking with Karen about dinner plans.

And now here he was, on some planet across the galaxy - knowing on some level that he was going into shock as the roar in his ears grew louder and louder, the dread in his stomach transforming into full-fledged panic as his senses screamed. 

While a part of Peter registered that this wasn't the first time he'd held someone he loved in his arms as they died, the irony of his words to Tony on the ship come back to haunt him, echoing in his mind as he takes a shaky breath. 

_You’re not doing this alone._

Even as Quill’s panicked voice started to ring in the background, Peter’s vision blurring until he closes his eyes - it hits him that while he hadn’t broken his promise, that Tony had. 

Another crack of thunder. The deep, familiar ache of loss churning in his gut.

Peter lets out something almost like a sob, the reality crashing down on him as his hands fall in front of him - deep gulping breaths as he realizes that they’d lost. 

For the second time in his life, Peter hadn’t been quick enough. 

And now the universe had paid the price.


	2. You Shouldn’t Be Here.

“You gonna just sit there?”

Peter doesn’t answer Quill, gazing out into the abyss of the unknown - the stars almost mocking him in their brilliance. 

“We’re screwed if we--”

“I know.” Peter snaps, closing his eyes as he takes a deep breath - willing himself to calm down. The anger that he feels towards Quill is undeniable, on a ship headed to nowhere - damaged in a fight that they should’ve won. 

_It was the only way_. 

Strange’s words taunt him now just as his own had, mulling them over and over in his mind while Quill gives up and sulks over to another part of the ship. 

Peter will suck it up and find him in a minute, remembering that there was something wrong with the fuel line. For as frustrated as he was at him, Quill actually seemed to actually be capable of flying the ship they were in and had a relatively good working knowledge of how to fix their problems. 

They had to - days away from being dead in the water unless they came up with something and came up with it quick. 

He and Tony used to tinker with stuff all the time in the lab, his degree from Columbia giving him more than enough practical knowledge - even if it seemed woefully out of reach for fixing an alien ship.

The reminder of Tony cuts Peter deep into his core, an ache of overwhelming loss that he’s felt so many times before - a thought that does nothing to lessen how much pain he’s in.

_Pete._

Tony was a man of many words, known for his quick-wit just as much as he was his brilliant mind. And yet all Tony had been able to say before he disappeared into oblivion was Peter’s name, Peter opening his eyes for his vision to blur like it had so many times before.

It was unimaginable, a complete impossibility - to have lost so much in his life time and time again. 

The car accident that had taken his parents. The robbery that had taken Ben.

And now Tony - another sign of his failure - gone with billions of others because Peter hadn’t been quick enough to stop it.

Peter blinks away some of the tears then quickly wipes them away, knowing that for as much as he’s grieving that Quill is right. 

They had to figure out something - the ship was in trouble, much less the thought of provisions, the gnawing feeling in his gut not only from the grief that threatened to swallow him and also from the understanding that he still hadn’t eaten much beyond something that vaguely resembled a fruit snack. 

It felt like another lifetime since he’d left the SI building but it had only been a little over a day, Peter’s hands slightly shaking - though from hunger or from the memory of Tony fading from them, he didn’t know. 

A darker part of Peter wanted to give up, a brief moment of desolation but he shoved it down - his thoughts inexplicably going to May and to Tony. 

The thought of May turning into dust was impossible - something Peter’s mind refused to accept, hoping beyond all hope that the universe had granted him this one thing. 

That she was safe, waiting for him - Peter not knowing what he would do if she wasn’t - the one thing pushing him to get back home. 

And yet his mind also went to Tony - the love and the trust in his eyes seconds before he disappeared - Strange’s words inexplicably ringing in his ears as he did so.

_It was the only way._

Strange had said that to him, words that sounded like a promise and an apology.

Peter didn’t even know Strange enough to mourn him but he did anyway, just like he did everyone else in the universe that was gone.

He sighs, closing his eyes once more before opening them again - wiping away the tears more definitively and straightening his shoulders as he sits up.

Peter hadn’t given up yet in his lifetime. And despite how impossible this situation felt, despite how badly he wanted to curl up into a ball and ignore everything he couldn’t.

For May, for Tony and for the billions more who weren’t around anymore. 

Peter may not have been an official member of the Avengers but as he stands, glancing towards where Quill had walked off, he commits to the cause all the same.

He couldn’t save the universe in time. 

But Peter was going to commit to living long enough to avenge it.

* * *

Peter nearly stumbles off the ship, the Compound feeling eerily quiet as Quill helps him off.

“Come on, kid.” 

“Don’t call me that.” Peter rasps, feeling Quill tense as Peter stumbles - another hand reaching for him. 

He glances up in confusion, only to see Nick Fury and a woman he doesn’t recognize behind him, a look of concern on Fury’s face that he’s not sure he ever imagined could be there. 

“Nick Fury? What—what are you—“

“Let’s get you inside.” Fury says, looking to him before glancing to Quill.

“What’s wrong with him?”

Peter feels dizzy, his sole mission in getting back to earth seemingly finished now that they’ve landed. 

Quill had barely managed to get them there, the fix for the fuel line he and Peter developed wouldn’t have lasted much longer had he not taken drastic measures.

Quill had an awful, reckless idea to speed hyper jump - a gamble that sounded like something straight out of a science fiction movie, something Peter would’ve argued more against it he would’ve had the strength and know how but he’d lost out - bewildered and feeling now how dehydrated and exhausted he was as Fury and Quill led him forward.

“Where’s the medbay in this place?” The woman asks, Peter’s mind starting to warp now that he was home.

_May._

His first thoughts go to her but it seems reality has a different plan, stumbling a few more times before the weight of earth's gravity and the toll of everything he’s been through overwhelms him - stumbling forward once more before passing out. 

* * *

“Hey dumbass, it’d be super uncool of you to die. A lot of people have died already and man, I don’t know if—oh wait, hey. Hey, he’s waking up.”

Peter groans, his head pounding as he moves his head - the familiar smell of antiseptic in the air as he opens his eyes.

“Tony?”

The room freezes, hearing a voice that he recognizes only for the memories to come flooding back to him as Peter’s vision clears.

“Um, no man. Not Tony. It’s Peter. Peter Quill, since you’re a Peter too. Eye-patch keeps calling me Quill but since I was born first I—“

Peter must give some kind of look because Quill snaps his mouth shut, fingers tapping against his leg in the chair he’s in. Peter’s eyes dance around the room, seeing what clearly hadn’t been his mind playing tricks on him.

Nick Fury in the flesh, arms folded as he stared at Peter.

“You’re Nick Fury.” Peter croaks out, wincing as he tries to sit up on for Quill to reach a hand out to try and keep him down.

“Hey, hey, hey, whoa you’re still super dehydrated, man. I’d be a lot more—“

“Peter Parker.” Fury says, cutting Quill off as Peter studies him. He hears something like a snort come from Quill, muttering about how he was tired of being ignored but Peter’s focused on Fury - trying to make sense of why he was here.

Of all the years that he’s been a hero, Peter can’t recall a time where he’d ever met Nick Fury. He’d heard plenty of stories from Tony, some that sounded a little embellished - involving shooting an armored car and something involving a building shaped like a donut.

The thought of a donut shaped anything just twists Peter stomach into knots, less at the thought of food - noting the IV in his arm and wondering if that had something to do with how much clearer the world is around him - but of the ship that had carried them into space.

The ship that had sent them to Titan, to Thanos and to loss.

“What happened? What’s going on?” 

Fury’s eye narrows, the concern that had been there before replaced with skepticism.

“From what I understand, you’d be the best person to explain that, Mr. Parker. Your friend Quill here—“

“We’re not friends.” Quill speaks up again, both Fury and Peter giving him equal looks of displeasure and annoyance. 

“I mean we just met. We don’t, I don’t really know him so—“

“We fought a guy named Thanos.” Peter says, ignoring Quill - any residual gratefulness at getting them back to earth lessening the more and more his mind starts to clear, remembering that they were in this position because of Quill.

Peter hadn’t been quick enough, mere seconds away from wrangling the gauntlet away from Thanos. But Quill had been the one to wreck it all in the first place - screaming about someone, a loss he clearly felt, breaking the delicate hold they had over Thanos.

Peter was pre-eminently aware of what grief could do to a person. But the way Quill had blown up at Thanos - _knowing_ what was at stake - convinced Peter that Quill was right.

They weren’t friends. 

And for as forgiving as Peter was, he wasn’t sure if they ever would be. 

* * *

Thanos seemed to do exactly what he had planned.

Half the world was gone, from what Fury and Maria Hill - the woman he had seen earlier - had told him. 

Peter knew it from the moment he’d seen Tony and the rest turn into dust but it was still unimaginable, the billions and billions of people gone weighing on him so heavily that it felt like it was an anchor.

From what they told him, Thanos had brought the fight to earth - snapping his fingers in Wakanda. Peter couldn’t explain how he knew it but when Fury told him that the Avengers he had grown up knowing - Steve, Bruce, Natasha, Clint, Thor - were all gone, he wasn’t surprised. 

The rest - Sam, Bucky, Wanda - were all in Wakanda, Fury mentioning that King T’Challa and his sister were already launching aid efforts in surrounding countries.

Peter had barely awake for thirty minutes when he took the IV line out, forcing the dizziness away from sheer willpower alone.

“Parker, where are you going?” Fury asked, taking a step towards him that was surely meant to be intimidating but did nothing to stop Peter.

“I need to go back into the city.” Peter answers, staring Fury down. 

“We need a plan—“

“And we’ll figure one out. But right now,” Peter takes another step towards Fury, watching as the man seems to study him once more - clearly aware of who Peter was and his powers as Peter continued, “I need to get back to the city.”

“You got people counting on you, Parker. Stark said one day you’d run the Avengers.”

Peter immediately feels the pang or loss in his gut at the mention of Tony’s name, grinding his teeth as he closed his eyes - taking a shaky breath. “Don’t.”

“Stark chose you. And if you don’t think you’re up to it then—

“Give the kid a break, man.” Quill chimes in, Peter equal parts grateful and annoyed at his words.

“I’m not a kid.” Peter snaps, realizing how childish his words and his tone sounds as he opens his eyes and stares at Fury.

“I’ll do whatever you need. Whatever the plan is.” Peter takes another step forward, inches away from the blank - yet calculated - expression on Fury’s face. 

“But I have to go to the city first.”

* * *

Fury doesn’t stop him. 

Quill tries to but Peter dismisses him, not as rudely as he wants to be - the latent anger at what Quill had done still stewing - even if Peter can already tell that if this was their new reality, he’d need all the allies he could get. 

But his focus is on one thing - one _person_ \- even the power of FRIDAY in his suit being unable to push through the communication lines.

“No answer, Peter.”

The drive from the Compound to the city had been a nightmare - everything in Peter aching for him to stop and help, the cries from terrified people, the fire and the destruction overwhelming him. 

But he had to find out it May was okay - his entire focus on her, tunnel vision that was relentless, not allowing himself to consider the possibility that May had been like Tony, that he’d walk in to an empty apartment—

When Peter finally made it to the city, it was in chaos - looting and terrified screams from people - pushing everything away as much as he could. 

Fury was right. He had to help. They had to figure out a plan.

But even if Peter was twenty-four, an adult by any metric imaginable, he had just seen his last father figure turn to dust right in front of his eyes - the knowledge that every hero that he’d grown up with had all faded into oblivion too.

Peter could survive this - he’d survived unfathomable tragedy before, even if the ramifications of what Thanos had done was reverberating like shockwaves all around him.

But he’d only ever survived it before with May, ditching the car he’d borrowed and swinging as fast as he could to her apartment - the panic threatening to swallow him whole at the idea that he would be completely alone. 

For whatever reason, May wasn’t answering - the closer he got to the apartment, the more a quiet voice in the back of his mind started to prepare him for the impossible.

 _Not her. Not her. Not her._

Peter’s pleading with the universe, knowing how cruel it had been to him as he swings to the apartment building - opening the window and jumping in without a second’s thought. 

He was usually so much more careful, hyper aware of what could happen if someone caught on to his identity. 

But the world was in chaos, Peter completely focused on one person - knowing that if he had to face this new world alone that he wasn’t sure if he would care if anyone knew who Spider-Man was.

Peter’s heart feels like it’s going to leap out of his chest, drowning out any other sound as he yells out into the apartment, “May?”

It’s silent for a beat - just enough for Peter to feel a wave of overwhelming grief crash over him - only for it to stop, the relief flooding through him as she ran in from the bedroom.

“Peter? Peter, oh my God.”

Peter rushes forward, the nanite mask crumbling away as she envelops him into a hug - his whole body shaking as her arms wrap around him, burrowing his head into her neck.

The sob that he had held in for so long - of relief, in grief, of terror - spills out of him, May immediately tightening her grip as they both sink to their knees.

“May.” Peter’s voice is muffled, holding her tighter as the sobs continued to overwhelm him - finally allowing himself the chance to mourn everything that he’d lost now with the crushing simultaneous guilt and relief that he still had May.

Billions had been lost - billions mourning their family - but Peter just held on to May, thanking anyone and anything in the universe that would listen that for once, just _once_ in his life, that he’d been granted mercy. 

The world would never be the same, Peter knew this.

Fury was right. They needed a plan. 

But with May in his arms, softly murmuring in his ear, Peter allowed himself the chance to finally breathe. 

* * *

SIX MONTHS LATER 

“You got this Spider-Man?” 

Peter swung a web out, flipping and turning as he wrapped himself and the webs around the crane - landing softly next to Sam. 

“Yeah, gimme a sec.” Peter grabbed on to the web, hearing the groan of the machinery and the shocked gasp of the construction workers nearby. 

Peter braced himself, his arms pulling down on the webs - acting as a pulley system, grunting as he used his full weight and strength to lift the crane off of the now demolished building. 

The fallen crane was one of many, clean-up being a seemingly endless job, the third one they’d worked on today. He wasn’t tired yet, the exertion of moving debris away not being a match for what he was fully capable of - an ironic revelation considering all the conversations he and Tony used to have about what the limits of what Peter’s powers could actually be. 

The memory of Tony weighs on him for a second, causing him to pause - crane in mid-air - until Sam brings him out of it, asking, “Spider-Man?”

“Yeah,” Peter groans, pulling the crane off and moving his body - slightly swinging the demolished crane away and allowing it to land as gracefully as possible away from the building and towards the empty street.

Logically, Peter knew the city wasn’t empty. Half of New York’s population on any given day was still more than enough people to cause a problem.

But the loss of life that had happened in the immediate aftermath of the snap, the mass exodus and rioting that had occurred when the government was still trying to make sense of the scale of the problem had changed things.

Now, six months later - the world was far from settled. Peter wasn’t sure if they ever would reach anything remotely close.

But there was a new routine, Peter letting the web out of his hands as the crane came to a stop - feeling Sam’s hand on his shoulder.

“You alright?”

Peter nodded, stretching out his back as he swung his arms back and forth - loosening himself up. “Yeah, yeah, I’m good. We got anything else?”

When Sam didn’t answer Peter turned to face him, seeing a look that he’d seen several times in the months since he, Bucky and Wanda has arrived back from Wakanda. 

The look Sam gave him now was of a counselor, clearly seeing through his facade and of how desperately he was trying to hold it together.

They were all that’s left - a distant part of Peter already knowing that the fact that Fury had greeted him at the Compound that first day back indicated that Pepper, Rhodey and Happy were also gone. 

While a part of Peter wished they hadn’t, another part - a more cynical side was relieved.

For as awful as it was to keep living without Tony, Peter didn’t have to carry the guilt of looking into any one of their eyes - to reckon with the fact that his failure cost them their husband and best friend. 

Though this relief was always short-lived, the guilt he felt in thinking that always following after - thinking there’s few things he wouldn’t give to have them all back.

But he couldn’t - Peter took responsibility for that, even if Sam didn’t seem to agree with him. His eyes narrowed in that familiar way as he said, “We been going at it hard. Might be time for a break.”

Peter shook his head, stretching out his arms again. “No, no I’m good. There’s a statue up on 7th that needs to be removed.”

Peter can hear Sam grind his teeth, sighing before turning to face Peter head on.

“You need a break, Pete. You’re going at this too hard—“

“There’s too much to do, Sam.” Peter interjects, glancing around to see if any civilians heard Sam use his name. But everyone is preoccupied, moving things around and seemingly all going to take a lunch break.

A headache begins to form right behind his eyes. Sam seems to sense it, though how Peter doesn’t know - bringing a hand to his shoulder as he whispers, “We can’t fix it all at once, kid.”

Peter closed his eyes, willing himself not to snap at Sam - not when he knows it comes from a place of concern.

He’d heard the whispers between the three of them - Wanda, Sam and Bucky - all people he’d had a friendly enough acquaintance with before everything and now had come to rely on in ways he wished he didn’t have to.

There was so much work to be done, so much _loss_ and death everywhere. Thanos had believed his snap would free up resources for those that remained but all Peter could see was the devastation left behind because of it, made worse because he was still somewhere in the galaxy without reckoning with what he’d done. 

They hadn’t found Thanos - six months and it was like searching for a needle in a haystack. It nagged at Peter that Thanos was somewhere still out there, no doubt basking in the victory that had resulted in the death of billions.

Searching for him was beyond Peter - in several ways. One trip to space had been more than enough for one lifetime. 

But ever since Quill and a glowing woman named Carol had left earth in search of them, Peter had committed to staying in the city - just as he had told Fury, the insurmountable task in front of him taking up every inch of his brain power.

Sam disagreed and had said as much in so many words - that Peter was pushing himself too hard, focusing _too_ much on something that would years. 

On some level, Peter knew he was right - but he wasn’t interested in arguing with him - with anyone.

Not when they were the only ones left.

“Maybe but,” Sam says, bringing Peter out of his thoughts, “we all need breaks.” He looks at Peter through the red tint of his eye mask, seeing the concern in them as he tightens his grip on his shoulder. 

“Come on, let’s get some food. We got that call with Wakanda anyway.”

Peter doesn’t want to stop but his stomach betrays him, loudly enough that Sam can hear it as he grins.

“You ready?”

Peter rolls his eyes, even if Sam couldn’t see it under the mask before nodding his head - Sam releasing his grip on his shoulder as he unfurls his wings.

Peter sighs, sending a hand out to extend a web just as Sam lifts off in the direction of the SI building.

“Let’s go.” 

* * *

Full and feeling the exhaustion starting to settle over him, Peter sighs as he drifts in and out of the conversation - the terse words between Fury and Shuri grating on his nerves and doing nothing to relieve the full blown tension headache he has. 

“What do you mean you can’t help find him anymore?” Fury snaps, hands on his hips as Peter glances around the room - the holograms of Shuri, T’Challa, Carol and Quill standing at the front of the room.

They’re in one of SI’s meeting rooms, Sam to his left and Bucky to his right - Wanda absentmindedly using her powers to play with a stress ball as Hill watches the Fury and Shuri go back and forth.

“With respect Director Fury,” Shuri responds, her eyes narrowing even as Peter sees T’Challa send a warning glance to her, “Wakandan resources are already being used extensively for the relief efforts. America is not the only one who has been affected by the tragedy. There are millions of others who need—“

“I’m not _asking_ about the million, I’m asking about the search for one.” Fury points towards Carol and Quill, the former’s arms folded as she watched Fury while Quill seemed to be more focused on Peter.

Peter avoids his gaze as Fury continues. “We need all eyes, anything we got, to search for the motherfucker that caused all of this.”

“Director Fury,” T’Challa interjects, straightening his shoulders as he says, “As my sister has already stated, we are doing everything that we can to—“

“We need to do more.” Fury interrupts, Peter watching in mild amusement at the hardened stare both T’Challa and Shuri give.

“ _We_ need to do more? _We_? Tell me director, what exactly has SHIELD—“ Shuri begins only for T’Challa to put a hand up, communicating to Shuri through a look that reminds him so much of how he and Ned used to interact.

Peter doesn’t catch T’Challa’s rebuttal, all of them under no illusion that Wakanda was doing everything and more to try and help bring some kind of order in the chaos. 

He’s lost in his memories, thinking of Ned - another painful ache in his chest and the knowledge that his best friend was also dusted and gone. 

Once he knew May was safe, everything else was up in the air - Peter both wanting and not wanting to know who he’d known in his life who was still around.

Thanos had said he would eliminate half of all life but it seemed so random to Peter, thinking of Clint’s whole family being left behind while he was gone - just as Pepper, Rhodey and Happy had left with Tony. 

Ned was gone - something he’d felt before he’d swung by his apartment in the city to confirm it, seeing the dust pile of him and in his living room - that being enough that Peter left finding out who else was dusted up to chance. 

It was too much to think of in the day to day, too much death to really wrap his head around - lost in his memories until Sam nudges him, looking up and realizing that everyone is staring at him.

“Sorry, sorry. Been a long day.” Peter gives a half-smile, seeing the tired smiles of those around him except for Fury looking almost annoyed and Quill looking at him so intently that Peter wants to look away. 

“What was the question?”

“Now that you’re back from daydream land,” Fury begins, “I asked if SI could spare anymore resources to the relief efforts, relieve some of the pressure from the government and allow Wakanda to devote more time to search for Thanos.”

The tension headache only magnifies as Peter grimaces, another change in his life that he hadn’t anticipated - knowing it would come in the abstract but wishing that it had been under any other circumstances. 

Tony had told him over the years of his plans - for Peter to lead the Avengers, if that’s what he wanted, and for him to inherit SI. It’d always been in late night lab talks, over dinner with everyone around - a far-off possibility years and years in the future.

But now Tony was gone - the entirety of his wealth, fortune and company all seemingly now in Peter’s hands - something he felt woefully unequipped to handle, much less actually utilize.

Peter had gotten used to being on the receiving end of Tony’s gifts over the years but to now be the donor, to have billions within reach, overwhelmed him.

“Yeah, yeah of course.” Peter answers, shrugging his shoulders. “Whatever you need. I thought SI was already helping?”

Shuri sends him a grateful smile. “Your company is doing excellent work but I wonder if there are other ways we could leverage your resources. Wakanda is not without its technology,” she sends a withering glance towards Fury before looking back to Peter, “but the burden is always easier when it’s shared.”

Peter nods. “Yeah, whatever’s needed. Whatever you guys want, just— we’ll get it done.”

“Thank you, Peter.” Shuri replies, glancing towards T’Challa.

“Brother, it’s almost time.”

T’Challa nods once to her before turning to the rest of the room. “Thank you all for joining. This time again, two weeks?”

“Might be difficult for us.” Carol chimes in, head tilting towards Qull. “We’re hopping through Priori Gela right now and it’s taking more time than we thought.”

“Whenever and whatever you got, Carol. We’ll make time.” Fury responds, the room starting to shift as she nods.

“See you all.” Carol says, her hologram dissipating as Quill sends another meaningful look towards Peter - Peter just nodding his head as Quill smiles sadly before disappearing too.

For reasons Peter couldn’t understand, it was like Quill felt responsible for him - something he didn’t need and didn’t care to have, much less because of who it was coming from.

Peter didn’t hold on to grudges as a rule but it was hard for him to be around Quill - knowing what he did - both guilty of the problem that the universe now found themselves in. 

Shuri and T’Challa say their goodbyes too - Fury turning to the rest of them as their holograms disappear.

“And for the rest of you, we got some domestic issues we need to solve. Namely, our PR issue.”

“Not this again.” Bucky mutters, as Fury folds his arms.

“I’m sorry, I forgot that you seem to think the people in this room are universally beloved. People are angry and it doesn’t help that the heroes the world knows are dusted and gone too.”

“What are we, bargain bin Avengers?” Sam mutters beside him, Peter smirking as he catches Wanda’s eye.

“None of us chose to still be here, Fury.” Wanda replies, the grief so heavy and clear in her voice that it changed the atmosphere in the room - Peter knowing more now about what happened in Wakanda while he had been in space.

Even Fury seems to soften slightly, enough that he sighs and braces himself against the table.

“I’m not saying you all aren’t doing your best.”

“But you _are_ saying that we need to be better?” Peter asks, hearing Fury sigh again as Hill responds.

“It’s a lot to handle.” She says, Peter turning to her and seeing the grim look on her face. “The world is mourning and angry and they’re just looking for someone to blame.”

“Join the club.” Bucky says, the room growing quiet as they all get lost in their memories. 

Peter thinks of Tony and what he would do - probably saying something sarcastic and flippant before coming up with a plan.

This was Tony’s life - Tony and Pepper’s - Peter being reminded once again why he had said no to joining the Avengers over and over again over the years.

It wasn’t the responsibility, Peter would never run from that. 

But it was this - the sheer weight, the burden of the world that now fell on his shoulders - knowing that New York was just a speck in the sea of countless cities and countries all around the world trying to deal with the impossible.

It was too much to think about, too much even then. Peter just shakes his head, exhaling loudly out of his mouth before saying, “It’s hard on everyone. We all know it. It’s… it’s too much.”

Peter runs his hand over his face, feeling Sam’s steady gaze on him as he turns back to Fury.

“We fucked up. We lost. And now the world’s mad.” 

Fury says nothing as Peter sighs again, bracing his head in his hands as he says, “But maybe that’s the point. Maybe they should be.”

“Peter—“ Sam begins only for Peter to lift his head out of his hands, looking at him in the eyes as he says, “No, they’re right. They _should_ be mad.”

An idea sparks in Peter’s mind, mulling it over before turning back to Fury. 

“But maybe we can channel that anger into something good.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love it when people scream at me in the comments. Or come hang out with me on [tumblr.](https://seek-rest.tumblr.com)


	3. In Plain Sight.

“You sure about this, Pete?” 

Peter nods, tapping his fingers against his leg as May looks back at him thoughtfully. They were in her apartment, Peter relaying his plan to have the public to be more involved in the clean-up, to communicate to the people of New York, more intentionally - a way of hearing what they were going through and do what Peter did best, solve problems one person - or one block - at a time. 

Everyone had felt the sting of this loss, Peter reasoned. And the anger that people felt was something Peter shared, hoping that the people of New York would understand once they actually started talking just how much he felt it too. 

That maybe, in a naive way, that shared anger could be channeled towards working together - to invite more people to help with building the city back, to create a world that would never be the same but would act as a unifier - to try and make sense of the nonsensical. 

Fury hadn’t been keen on the idea at first, the idea of inviting anyone into criticizing the Avengers just asking for a problem they didn’t want to have. 

But Peter’s initial idea banked on the idea that people would  _ want _ to communicate with any of them - something Fury wasn’t sure was the case, moving it towards a more focused, controlled environment. 

His original idea somehow transformed into a press conference at Stark Industries - inviting less of the public and more of the press, something that didn’t sit well with Peter but considering the rest of the Avengers weren’t as known as Peter was, he conceded to. 

Peter wasn’t deep enough into his guilt spiral to deny that for as angry as everyone was, that  _ he  _ still didn’t have some semblance of goodwill in the city. Nor was he completely removed that he didn’t recognize that while the Accords had been long since dissolved, that people’s memories were long. 

It also didn’t help that the only Avengers that people could recognize in a heartbeat were gone. 

Though now running it over with May - as he often did - he was beginning to wonder how good of a plan it actually was, the original much less the transformed one - knowing she had a sense for these kind of things just as he had a sense for danger. 

“There’ll be a lot of reporters. A lot of questions. Things you might not--”

“It’ll be good, May.” Peter says, nodding his head before looking at her straight on. “People are angry and they need someone to talk to. And maybe this is it, maybe this will help people...” Peter trails off. “I don’t know, give them something to focus on.” 

“That doesn’t mean it has to be  _ you _ , Pete. There’s counselors, social workers still--”

“I know, May, I know.” Peter interrupts, shoulders sagging as he tries to smile. “But people are mad at the  _ Avengers _ too. Like it was our fault, that we should’ve done something to stop him.”

_ We should’ve. I should’ve. _ Peter thinks, May’s eyes narrowing as she looks at him up and down. 

“Peter, don’t do that to yourself.”

“Don’t do what?” 

May sighs now, putting her hand on his shoulders - an action so reminiscent of all the times that she’d done it before, holding him and grounding him as she looked into his eyes. “Make it like this is all your fault.”

_ It is _ . 

“It isn’t, Pete. No matter what you’re telling yourself in there.” May says, tapping his temple before bringing a hand to his chin, holding his gaze as if he was seventeen again. 

“Being here, working with everyone… it’ll be good for Spider-Man and the Avengers maybe, but is this good for  _ you _ ? Don’t think I don’t know that you’re not spending nearly enough time sleeping as you should.”

“May…” Peter begins, only for May to shake her head. 

“No. You listen to me, Peter.” 

Her words are sharp but her voice is not, her features softening as she brings the one hand down, bracing it on his shoulder again as she says, “You cannot keep blaming yourself for things that you can’t control. This,” May closes her eyes, taking a deep breath before exhaling and saying, “this is an awful tragedy. But the burden of this isn’t yours. It’s not.” May affirms, even if everything in Peter is screaming at him to tell her that it was. 

He hadn’t told May the details of what had happened on Titan, if only because he couldn’t bring himself to dwell on it anymore than he already did - seeing Tony disappear before he even had the chance to respond anytime he closed his eyes. 

Peter was angry - just like so many others were, at himself more than anything. 

He should’ve been quick enough. He should’ve saved them. 

And if subjecting himself to the public - to reporters, to the questions and the accusations was his penance - Peter would take that and more. 

Peter doesn’t answer, May sighing as she brings him into a hug - one that Peter freely returns, thankful again and again that she was still here with him. 

She squeezes him tight, Peter burrowing his head into her shoulder until she relaxes - leaning back as she asks, “If you do this, when would it be?” 

Peter shrugs. “Next week maybe? It just depends. The Accords don’t really matter anymore but Fury’s a little unsure of how it would look to have Sam, Bucky and Wanda up there. I mean it’s all about  _ optics _ now I guess--”

“I understand.” May says, moving a curl away from Peter’s face as she smiles. “And Spider-Man? He’s not an Avenger. Why should you be up there?”

Peter shrugs. “New York doesn’t hate me for whatever reason, not like they do everyone else. If it helps people start to,” Peter waves a hand around, “I don’t know, grieve, than it’s the least I can do.”

“You know that’s not how it works.”

Peter nods. “I know.”

May’s silent as she studies him, the smile on her face growing as she says, “You need a haircut, kiddo.” 

Peter laughs, feeling the exhaustion crawl all over him as he stifles a yawn - May’s smile looking a little more sad as he replies, “I’ll be under the mask. It’s fine.” 

“And some sleep. You look tired, Pete.” 

“Thanks, May.” Peter deadpans, grinning as he runs a hand over his face. “Speaking of, I should go.”

“You sure?” She asks, nodding towards his old room. “I wouldn’t mind if you wanted to stay over. Make sure you get some sleep for once. Knowing you, you’ll only get distracted by something on the swing home.” 

Peter considers it for a moment - the idea of a good night’s sleep, the reality of what May was saying, already anticipating the distractions that would keep him from  _ actually _ getting home anytime soon. 

But the thought of staying over now is immediately thrown out, if only because on the off-chance that Peter  _ did _ go to sleep - he didn’t want to risk May waking up if he had one of his nightmares, an all-too common occurrence in the few times he actually allowed himself the chance to sleep. 

“I’m sure, May. I’ll text you when I get home okay?” He hugs her once more, kissing her on the cheek before heading out the door - a bit more careful about his identity now that Spider-Man was one of the few heroes left. 

May sighs, nodding as she wrapped the sweater she had on tighter around her. “Larb you, Pete.”

Peter smiles. “Larb you too.”

He goes for the door only to pause when May’s voice rings out again. “Oh before I forget-- will you be able to come by the shelter tomorrow?” 

Peter purses his lips, debating with himself for the thousandth time. 

May’s work at the shelter - one of many that had sprung up in the months since they’d lost - was something she’d taken a lot of pride in, something that Peter had admired her for and expected nothing less. 

A woman who had taken in her nephew and raised him as her own - long after her in-laws and husband had already passed - wouldn’t be one to sit at home and do nothing while the world burned. 

She’d asked on more than one occasion about Peter coming by - as  _ Peter _ , not as Spider-Man - a part of him wondering how much of it was because they needed help and whether it was a not so subtle way for him to  _ not  _ devote all his efforts to the city’s clean up. 

It was relentless - the amount of things that needed to be done never-ending. But Peter also wanted to support May, knowing how much joy she found even in the midst of unimaginable tragedy in working with the kids at the shelter. 

And knowing from the years of having been with her that if May really wanted him to do something, it was a matter of  _ when _ , not if. 

Peter makes the decision, pushing away the exhaustion and the anxiety of all that he had to do away as he says, “Yeah, yeah I’ll be there. Tomorrow at five sound okay? I got a SI meeting in the afternoon, I don’t know how long it’ll be but--”

“Whenever you can. There’s no rush, Pete.” May smiles warmly at him, even if Peter can tell that it doesn’t reach her eyes - so visibly worried about him that it sends a pang through his chest. 

“I’ll be there.” Peter answers, smiling once more at her once more before turning and heading out the door, catching the sad look on her face as he does. 

It was a look that he’d seen on Sam. A similar look that he’d seen from Quill earlier today.

A look of someone who was worried about him, even if Peter wished that they wouldn’t. 

* * *

Peter swung through the city, pushing away the meeting from SI as he did so. 

He’d never really cared for the business side of things of the company he’d worked for -  _ owned, I own it now _ , Peter thinks to himself - half-heartedly listening when Pepper would talk about board meetings and stockholders and far off business deals whenever he and May would visit them for dinner.

But Pepper was gone now and while the role of CEO wasn’t his burden alone - some of Pepper’s proteges having survived the snap and being more than willing to help - the decision-making power was his, something Peter still struggled with.

On the one hand, having the kind of executive power that he did made working with the Avengers, Wakanda and whoever else was made easier - having the kind of insider access and trust that came with being a superhero. 

On the other, Peter wasn’t a businessman and had no concept of what exactly he was doing and how good it was for the future of SI - something he cared about only for how much of it felt like it was the legacy that Pepper - and Tony - had left behind.

It was in these moments, even for as guilty as it made him feel, that Peter wished he’d been dusted too. 

He chases away that thought as quickly as it comes, physically shaking his head as he makes one last swing to the shelter - landing on the rooftop, where he’d stored a duffel bag with an extra change of clothes.

In another life, Peter thinks to himself as he glances around - trusting that his senses would tell him if anyone was watching as he grabbed the bag and walked towards the roof entrance - if he had been dusted, he could only hope that May had been given the same fate too. 

That she wouldn’t have felt the ache and the loss that Peter carried so heavily with him.

The loss of Tony, of Pepper, of Ned and billions of others… it was unfathomable to him, six months being a blip in the scope of his grief.

But May hadn’t been dusted and neither had he - both of them alive, together with so much work that needed to be done. 

Peter shook himself again, opening the door with the duffel bag in hand.

He couldn’t have saved any of them. But he could do what he could to preserve their legacy.

* * *

“You got it?” May asks, looking a little worried at the number of boxes in his arms as Peter laughs, the weight of them feeling less than air to him compared to the truck he’d moved earlier that day.

“Yeah May, I’m good.” Peter frowns. “Unless it’s too many—“

“No, no this is fine.” She interrupts, a small on her face as she says, “I just can’t get my little nephew out of my mind when you’re you know, not in your suit.”

“May.” Peter whispers, quickly glancing around to see if anyone had heard her.

“What? I could be talking about anything.” May replies, waving a hand around. “Let’s head out there. You can meet Phil, he’s the construction worker I told you about. He has a good idea for how to work on the subways…” May trails off. 

Peter dutifully follows after May, boxes in hand, as they make their way out of the back room and towards the main part of the shelter. It reminded Peter of a basketball gym, a part of him wondering if it had been before everything - cots set up all around as May pushed open the double doors.

Peter had expected that the grief and the despair in the room to be so thick, heavy like the guilt that he cradled over his own shoulders that it would feel almost comforting. 

What he found instead surprised him. 

He could sense it still, the lingering feel of loss in the air that would never go away - but he’s caught off guard by laughter, specifically children’s laughter - turning to the sound as he saw a group of them crowded around on the floor, watching in amusement as teenagers entertained them. 

It was distracting enough to stop him, realizing that he wasn’t the only one from the amount of heads that turned to the sound. May must have also noticed his hesitation, coming back to lay a hand on his shoulder - Peter turning to her to see the sad smile on her face. 

“Their parents are gone.” May says, nodding towards the group of children and the group of teenagers - putting on some kind of play with a decorated backdrop, now that Peter is looking more intently at them. 

“The city is doing their best but we’re the fourth shelter in as many blocks.” May sighs, Peter finally turning his attention away back from the children and to her. “There’s too many.”

Peter feels the pang in his heart, the ache of his failure weighing down on him again only to see May’s smile. “But we have a lot of volunteers, people who come in all the time, help out whenever.” 

Her voice lowers an octave, whispering so softly that no one else would be able to hear even if Peter can clearly, “You know better than most how awful people have been. But not here.” May leans back, a happier smile on her face. “Reminds me of the good in people.”

Peter says nothing, just offers a smile back to her as May nods, walking forward again so that he could follow. He does, but not without glancing back to the children once more - something about the scene familiar to him in a way that he doesn’t quite understand. 

* * *

Work at the shelter is more organized than Peter had expected, anticipating it to be more like a disaster relief zone. And it was, in some ways - the sheer volume of how many people that needed to be helped overwhelming in a way that prompts Peter to make another mental note - wondering if SI could use its considerable influence to funnel money more specifically towards these kind of smaller shelters as well. 

He’s passing out a blanket to a woman who barely seems to acknowledge him when he sees her out of the corner of his eye, a vague recognition that makes him do a double take. 

Her hair is longer than the last time it was when he last saw her, even if Peter can’t quite remember when that was. Jeans, worn sneakers, a maroon Harvard hoodie that has something almost like an ink stain on its sleeves. 

_ MJ _ . 

He thinks it before he says it, almost shoving the blanket to the woman in front of him - catching her annoyed look out of the corner of his eye as he rushes forward, deftly moving past people as he makes his way towards…

Peter doubted for a half-second but the closer he gets, the more he’s sure - giving him enough confidence to speak out. “MJ?”

She stops, turning to face him and immediately Peter feels like the wind’s been taken out of him. 

Because it was her, Michelle Jones - looking relatively the same, if not a lot more tired than he’s ever seen her - blinking a few times before a half-smile of surprise forms on her face. 

“Peter?.”

Peter rushes forward without thinking, going in for a hug only to pause - remembering that for as relieved as he was that someone from his life wasn’t snapped, that he and Michelle hadn’t seen each other in years. 

He extends his hands out for a second before bringing them back down awkwardly - standing right in front of her as he searches her face. 

She looks amused, so reminiscent of how she used to stare at him in high school. “Hey.”

“Hey. Hi. It’s-- it’s been a long time.” Peter stammers, cursing that the reappearance of an old friend from high school had seemingly resurrected how he used to talk back then. 

Michelle just smiles, more fully this time - even if Peter can see the sadness in her eyes. “Yeah, I’d ask how you’re doing but,” she gestures towards the room. “I think that’s kinda obvious.”

Peter presses his lips firmly together, wondering if she was here because she needed to be or as a volunteer - even if her appearance, while comfortable, indicated that she was here more as the latter. He hedges his bets, asking, “You work here? Volunteer or…?”

Michelle nods, her shoulders shrugging slightly as she says, “Sort of. I rotate depending on the week. I was in law school. Before.”

Peter nods like he understands - the whole world feeling like it was divided into a before and an after. “And now?”

Michelle lets out something almost like a laugh. “Well when half the campus disappears and the world feels like it’s ending, it’s kind of hard to focus on classes.” 

Peter just smiles in response, Michelle continuing. “I mean, I still am. In law school, it’s just a lot more disorganized.” Michelle stammers, more flustered than Peter’s seen her before.

“I’m supposed to be in my third year. It’s kind of pointless anyway so I’m using this as my pro bono credits.”

“This?” Peter asks, Michelle smiling a little more as she nods towards the room.

“Helping. With the kids.” She gestures towards where the group of them were, all now preoccupied with some movie playing attached to an old television. “All the legal bullshit that comes with fostering and adoption is even more complicated now.”

Michelle sighs, Peter feeling that weight again in his chest as she says, “Family law isn’t even what I wanted to do, you know before but,” she brings a hand down, meeting Peter’s eyes. “I have to help.”

“Are you even allowed to? I mean as a student still? I don’t know any of that works” He asks with sincerity but there’s a teasing to it, one that reminds him of how they used to banter back and forth during decathlon meetings.

Michelle picks up on it, rolling her eyes as she said, “ _ I’m  _ not the one technically doing all of it but it helps to have an extra set of hands. If anything just to distract the kids while my supervisor asks the other ones questions. Plus,” she shrugs, pointing towards the area again, “I get to sketch again which is fun.” 

Peter laughs. “I  _ knew _ the background looked familiar.” He nodded towards where the now discarded backdrop was. “Was that you?”

She smiles even wider now, almost touched that Peter remembered her old hobby - as if it wasn’t one of Michelle’s defining characteristics when they were in high school.

Michelle Jones had been quiet, sarcastic, and always “sketching people in crisis” - the latter half making Peter one of her more frequent inspirations and one that she teased him about more and more as high school went on.

After Liz moved away and she became captain, life had thrown them together more - Peter trying and mostly failing, to maintain the kind of balance in his life he wanted as a teenager that up until six months ago, he’d finally found.

They were friendly to each other, friends in that weird way anyone was when you shared so much time together like they did.

But after graduation they lost touch - Michelle going to Harvard and Peter staying in the city, too committed to New York and Spider-Man to leave even if Tony has jokingly argued it was a betrayal for him to skip out on MIT.

Peter pushes away the memories of Tony and of his old life - recognizing how much of a relief it was that at least one person from that more innocent part of his life hadn't faded away because of his failure. 

“Yeah, that was me. I can’t believe you remember that.” She says, a look on her face that Peter can’t quite place as he scratched the back of his neck.

“How could I forget? You sketched people in crisis remember? Hard to forget your art style when you drew so much about me.” Peter answers, bringing the memory out in the open as she smirks.

“Well you were a mess, Peter. But it looks like now that you’ve got your shit together.” She looks at him up down, Peter rolling his eyes as she says, “Mostly, anyway.”

“Glad to know I have your approval now.”

“You never needed it.” Michelle says matter-of-factly, something in her gaze that Peter can’t place as she says, “But good to know you’ve come to your senses.”

Peter laughs, bringing his hand down as he shoves his hands in his pockets, smiling back at her.

“You doing okay?” Michelle asks, Peter blinking a few times before she shakes her head.

“I know, none of us are. But still… did you… is there anyone—“

Peter catches on to her meaning. “May. She’s— she’s good. Here actually, helping out. She’ll be glad that you’re, you know.” 

Michelle understands, Peter’s curiosity getting the better of him as he asks, “And you?”

The familiar sadness fills her eyes, Peter immediately regretting asking as she answered, “Just me. My dad, he uh. He’s gone. He never was really around anyway but—“

“I’m sorry.” Peter says, Michelle waving a hand. 

“Don’t be. It’s not really any different.” 

There’s a flippant tone to her voice but Peter sees through it, knowing they weren’t close enough for him to actually press her about it. Michelle switches gears, looking around the room.

“I’d love to see May though. She was always—“ Michelle stops herself, quiet for a beat before saying, “She was nice to me. I’m glad you’re not— that you still have her.”

The smile on Peter’s face is genuine when he says, “Me too. Come on, I think she’s in the kitchen. Not cooking,” Peter laughed as his joke, “Organizing stuff in the pantry I think?”

Peter turns towards the back, Michelle walking in step with him as they make their way towards where May was supposed to be.

Peter wanted to ask her more questions about her life now - where she was staying, if  _ she _ had anyone even if her dad was clearly gone - but doesn’t, remembering that for as friendly as they had been in high school that Michelle had always been a little more guarded.

It was nice still, Peter thought. To see a familiar face, sneaking a glance to her as if to confirm that she was real - almost surprised that she was looking right at him.

He smiles at her, Michelle returning it before he faced forward.

Of all the people he could’ve imagined seeing again, he never would’ve expected Michelle. 

It was the smallest thing, a speck in the overwhelming grief that held him like an anchor - threatening to bring him down in a way that almost eclipsed his previous losses.

Peter’s torrential sense of failure was overwhelming. But Michelle standing in front of him, smirking back at him like they weren’t standing in a glorified gym at what felt like the end of the world - was proof that the universe could do him another solid, a reminder that for as much as Peter’s life had been fucked up, that at least he hadn’t failed to save at least  _ one  _ person.

He’d lost so many. His parents. Ben. Tony. Ned. Pepper. Rhodes. Happy. Billions more.

But May was alive. And now with Michelle beside him, walking in silence as they made their way to the back, Peter felt the tiniest release in his chest at the thought that someone else from his past was still okay.   
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos and comments are always appreciated. Come hang out with me on [tumblr](https://seek-rest.tumblr.com).


	4. What More Could I Lose?

May had been overjoyed to see Michelle, Peter being a little surprised since to his knowledge - they’d never interacted beyond maybe seeing each other at decathlon meets.

But they were clearly friendly with each other, Peter keeping his thoughts to himself while they caught up, standing around awkwardly until he busied himself with some other menial tasks.

“You have any family still?” May asked, Peter listening intently as he stocked some canned vegetables, his back turned towards them.

Michelle repeats what she’d told him about her dad and even if Peter couldn't see it, he can imagine May’s facial expressions, hearing the soft sigh and her hand rustling the cotton of Michelle’s sweatshirt. 

“Well, you’ll have to come by for dinner sometime. I’m a terrible cook but Peter’s good enough for the both of us.”

“That’s really sweet of you, May.” Michelle begins, Peter holding back a laugh as he straightens out the can of corn he’d just placed, already anticipating May’s next words.

“I insist. We’ll figure out a good time and then you’ll come over. Now, I have some things I have to take care of but I don’t mean to keep you anymore. Peter,” he forces himself to keep his head forward as she continues, “can walk you home.”

“Oh May, I can—“

“I know, I know you’re all grown up but humor me. Peter,” she says more assertively, turning his head and seeing the deer in headlights look Michelle is giving - a wave of sympathy flowing through him since whatever their previous interactions had been, she clearly hadn’t been aware of how May could get when she’d decided on something. 

“The corn can sort itself out. Come and walk Michelle home.” 

Peter smiles sympathetically at Michelle, before looking at May. “May, she might still have some stuff--”

“The rest of the lawyers left. We’ve kept her too late anyway.” 

“Really May, I’m fine to—” Michelle tries to say but May is insistent.

“I’m sure you are,” May interrupts, “But humor me, please. We all got to look out for each other.”

There’s a twinge of sadness in her voice, Peter knowing that May is being sincere even if on any other occasion - Peter would see right through her blatant attempt to get him to be around someone attractive his own age. 

And Michelle was, attractive - Peter kicking himself inwardly for  _ that _ to be something he was thinking of considering everything else. 

The world had seemingly ended six months ago and yet May was still looking out for Peter, hoping to set him up with a date - or at the very least, a friend, remembering how much May used to get on him about balancing the non-superhero part of his life, something that was almost non-existent now. 

Michelle must sense that she’s lost when she just smiles, nodding once before May smiles in return. 

“Perfect. Pete, you’ll text me that you made it home okay?” 

“What about you?” Peter asks, thinking that this was not only a way for her to get him to be around someone his own age but also a not so subtle way of encouraging him to take a break from patrolling, thinking of his suit back on the roof. 

“I’ll be fine, Sandy and I were going to grab a coffee at Mel’s.” She waves her hand as if to shoo them, Peter putting a hand up and turning - Michelle following suit. 

“Larb you, Pete. Text me.” 

Peter waves, catching Michelle’s raised eyebrow as he laughed and replied, “Larb you too.”

* * *

“Larb? Like the Thai food?” Michelle finally asks, a question Peter expects sooner rather than later, laughing to himself as they make their way down the stairs and down the block - presumably in the direction of Michelle’s apartment.

“Yeah, it’s… an inside joke.” Peter replies, stuffing his hands in his jean pocket as he glances towards the roof. 

He’d planned on just changing back into the suit, swinging back and doing a patrol but May - intentionally or not - had ruined that plan, thinking now how he’d be able to make his way back to the shelter tonight or if he should really just take the hint and swing by, in a manner of speaking, the next day. 

“Figured as much.” Michelle says, Peter’s eyes going from the roof back to her - seeing the way she looks at him curiously. He’d forgotten how piercing Michelle’s gaze could be, smiling awkwardly as he turns back towards the street as they walk forward.

It’s quiet between them, part of Peter feeling that he should fill in the silence with some kind of small talk with yet another part of him knowing that if Michelle was anything like she’d been when she was in high school, there was no need.

They walked for a few minutes in that comfortable silence, Peter’s eyes dancing around at the abandoned cars and trash that still littered the streets. 

It was normal by now and yet it was something Peter never wanted to get used to, almost longing for the way the city used to look to feel - the busyness that never ended and the chaos that at least then, had an almost rhythm to it. 

For Peter now, it felt almost empty - even if rationally he knew that wasn’t the case, the city’s failed attempt at a curfew in the immediate aftermath being unnecessary when more people started to leave. 

The chaos of those first few weeks were a blur to him now, the immediate rioting and the complete terror of dealing with a world that’d been split in half.

It was something that neither he nor May had ever considered, remembering how they’d danced around it in the days immediately following his return from Titan - the possibility of whether they should be among the many who left. 

New York hadn’t ever been a particularly  _ safe _ city, Peter’s whole alter-ego living proof of that. But it was home - something about the city that they couldn’t leave, the memories keeping them there, if not the nostalgia of what was. 

It reminds Peter that Michelle  _ hadn’t _ stayed in the city after high school, her Harvard hoodie clearly indicated that she’d left. He can sense that she would be relatively okay with walking in silence for the remainder of their trip but Peter has never been very good at keeping his thoughts to himself for long.

“You been back long?”

“Hm?” Michelle asks, Peter nodding towards the city around them. 

“You mentioned law school. Are you-- were you still at Harvard, or…?” 

“Oh,” Michelle lets a small laugh, “Yeah I uh, I go to Columbia.” 

“Really?” Peter raises his eyebrows, surprised. “I didn’t-- I would’ve thought you would’ve stayed at Harvard. Crimson pride and all that.” 

Michelle laughs more fully this time, the sound of it ringing something in Peter’s ears in a good way. “Nah, I… I missed the city too much.” 

“Oh.” Peter replies lamely, a question in the back of his mind that doesn’t make sense in context - wondering how he’d missed it, even if he knew Michelle wasn’t really active on social media. 

Michelle however, seems to catch on to it anyway - Peter remembering that she’d always been perceptive even when they were teenagers. 

“I didn’t really tell a lot of people.” She says, almost apologetically if Peter knows there’s no reason for her to be so - just as Michelle seems aware of it, the words seemingly surprising her as her face twists. 

They were friends in high school but not especially close, not enough for Peter to feel almost put out for her not telling him that she’d moved back to the city or for Michelle to feel almost guilty that she hadn’t. 

They fell out of touch, a normal thing - Peter not really talking with anyone from high school aside from Ned.

He almost thinks to apologize for asking, though for  _ what _ he’s not sure when she says, “I guess there’s not a lot of people to tell now.” 

Peter’s eyes flit over to her, pressing his lips together - wondering if that shared sense of grief would ever go away.

He didn’t know much of who he knew from high school or college was still around, being self aware enough to recognize that that particular knowledge would do nothing good for how guilty he felt. 

Peter nods like he understands, kicking a can on the street only to grab it - throwing it towards a trash can outside of the bodega they’re passing. 

It’s a perfect shot, Michelle smirking as he glances over to her. “Good to know some things haven’t changed.”

“Like what?” 

Michelle gestures to him and towards the trash can as they walk past. “End of the world and Peter Parker still cares about everyone around him.”

He smiles, shrugging his shoulders nonchalantly as he replies, “We all gotta do our part you know.”

“Yeah.” She replies, glancing around to their surroundings, contemplative in a way that makes him want to know what she’s thinking. 

He follows her eyes before asking, “So where you staying exactly?”

Michelle nods ahead of them. “Not too far from here actually. This shelter is closest to my place, maybe three blocks away?” She shrugs her shoulders as she continues. “Been zig zagging across the city so it’s nice to be closer now.” 

She turns to him slightly, a look on her face he can’t place. “You volunteer at the shelter often?”

Peter shook his head. “No, this was my first time. I should,” he brings a hand out of his pocket, rubbing the back of his neck as he grimaces. “May’s been asking me for awhile to stop by but I’ve just been really busy with the clean--” He stops himself, hoping she didn’t catch it even if he’s sure she did - Michelle watching as he scrambles. 

“I mean, I uh, I work for--”

“I know what you do, Peter.

There’s something about her tone that stops him in his tracks, wondering for a brief second if she  _ really _ knew - even if that was completely impossible. No one had uncovered his secret, aside from Ned - and he was dust in the wind, had been for months. 

Michelle brings him out of his potential thought spiral with her next words. “The news is shit but it’s kind of hard to ignore when an old high school friend gets named the heir of Stark Industries.”

“ _ Oh _ .” Relief floods through Peter, even if there’s a twinge of disappointment, something he shoves away as being nonsensical as he asks, “Yeah, I uh, I used to work in the biotech labs but Tony,” Peter swallows something down, seeing the concern on her face as he presses forward, “Tony uh, always said he always had bigger plans for me.”

Peter laughs but there’s no humor in it as Michelle continues to watch him, both of them crossing the street as he says, “I guess this is what he had in mind.”

Michelle stays silent for a beat, a vague memory coming back to him in the lunchroom their junior year about capitalism. 

It wasn’t something Peter feels the need to explain or feel guilty for, not when there were so many other things that weighed on him. But he still hoped, irrationally he thinks, that Michelle still approved of him. 

“You miss him.”

It’s not a question and not exactly what Peter had been expecting her to say, though a part of him registers that he also had never really been that good about predicting what words would ever come out of Michelle Jones’ mouth.

Peter laughs again, the grief filling him from the inside out. “Yeah.”

“You’re doing great, you know.”

She stops in the middle of the sidewalk, Peter turning to face her as he stops too.

“With all of this,” Michelle gestures towards the city again. “I keep up with things, all the stuff SI is doing with Wakanda. It’s… it’s really impressive.

Peter feels at a loss for words while she continues. “I can’t say I was Stark’s biggest fan, but... “ 

Michelle smiles at him, seeing a vulnerability in her eyes as she says, “Sounds like he made the right choice when he chose you.” 

“Thanks, MJ.” Peter feels like something’s lodged in his throat, quickly clearing it as he tries to smile in return. “We should hang out more often, you’re good for my ego.”

Michelle rolls her eyes, laughing at that as Peter smiles. 

“Shit, you try and be sincere for once…” 

“Thank you, MJ. Really.” Peter replies, hoping she understands the sincerity behind it. She seems to, nodding to him before tilting her head towards the building they were in front of. 

“This is my stop.”

“Cool, wow you did say you were close.” 

Michelle laughs again before the moment between them turns awkward - Peter starting to wonder what he should say. 

It was good to see Michelle again, partly for the reminder that his mistake hadn’t completely messed up everyone he’d known and partly for just how  _ nice _ it was to talk to her. 

Despite May’s concerns, he wasn’t completely alone. His old co-workers treated him differently since he’d inherited SI and Ned was gone but he did have other friends, even if a lot of them were overwhelmed with their own grief and had moved on from the city. 

Even if he didn’t really see them, throwing himself into trying to make the world not right, but functional. 

But there was something in the back of his mind that pushed him to want to keep in touch with her, even if he recognized that Michelle may not want to considering she’d been in the city for two years before everything and had never reached out. 

But Michelle brings him out of his thoughts, saying, “Yeah, well I meant what I said. About all of it.” 

Peter understands her double meaning, nodding once more. 

“You wanna--”

“We should--”

They both start at the same time, both awkwardly laughing before Peter scratches the back of his neck again. 

“You uh, I know you’re busy and all but… it was nice seeing you, MJ.” Peter begins, Michelle watching him intently as he said, “How long will you be working at the shelter?” 

Michelle nods. “Another three weeks at least, maybe a little longer.” She waits for a beat before digging out her phone, gesturing for Peter so that they could swap. 

He does, inputting his information into her phone before handing it back to her - seeing the smile on her face, something he can’t recall ever seeing as much in high school and yet glad he was seeing now. 

“It was good to see you too, Peter. We should hang out sometime.” Michelle says, turning towards her apartment building before looking back over her shoulder. 

Peter grins, the smile on his face genuine as he replies. 

“Yeah, I’d like that.” 

* * *

“That could’ve gone better.” Bucky grumbles, walking out of the room as the rest of them follow. 

Peter sighs, ignoring the tension headache that seemingly never seemed to go away now. 

“It started out fine.” Peter begins, only to be cut off by Sam’s sharp glare. 

“It  _ started _ fine but it  _ ended _ …” Sam trails off, all of them cringing a little at the memory of their encounter with the press not five minutes before. 

May had been right in a sense, that inviting in all of that blame and criticism hadn’t been the right way to go about things. Even Peter had his doubts, his idea changing so drastically away from what he’d wanted it to be. 

From the jeers and yelling and anger that it devolved into, Peter should’ve expected that six months was too soon to even begin to talk about what had happened… even if a part of him wondered if there would ever be enough time that passed. 

“What’s done is done.” Fury finally answers, turning to the three of them. “I got a call with Carol. Apparently,” he glances towards Peter, “Quill and that tree thing may have a lead.” 

“A lead?” Peter asks, feeling Wanda stiffen beside him. 

Fury nods. “Nothing for certain yet, just whispers but,” Fury looks towards the rest of them. “If this ends up panning out, we’re going to him.”

“By we he means us.” Bucky mutters under his breath, Fury narrowing his eye but saying nothing. 

“Dismissed.” Fury turns away without a second glance, Sam snorting as he exits out the room. 

“You know, I had to deal with some shit in the military but that guy,” he shook his head. “Pain in my ass.” 

“If they’ve found a lead, he’s not wrong, Sam.” Peter says, the possibility of finding Thanos stirring something in his gut. “It’s up to us to go to him. To do something. To--”

“Do not be so eager for a fight, Pete.” Wanda says, Peter turning away from Sam and seeing the torment in her eyes. “It didn’t go so well for us the last time.”

“I fought him too, Wanda.” Peter answers, feeling the tension in the room rise as he continues. “But we have to find him. We have to fix this.”

Her eyes flash red for a moment before her face transforms, a sad smile on her face as she says, “You still have hope.” 

Peter looks back at her disbelieving. “You  _ don’t _ ?” 

Wanda doesn’t answer, pressing her lips together before Sam speaks up. 

“We all have hope, Pete. But…” Peter turns back to him, seeing the way his eyes flit over to Wanda’s before meeting his. “We gotta be realistic, man.”

“I’m not giving up.” He answers, looking to all of them - Bucky staying silent as he turns to face Sam. 

“None of them would’ve have given up if the situation was reversed. Not Bruce, not Clint or Natasha or Steve.” Sam and Bucky both flinch at the mention of his name, Peter ignoring how his voice shakes as he says, “Not Tony. They wouldn’t stop until they found something, found a way way to fix this.” 

“We have to fix it.” Peter’s voice breaks, swallowing it down as he sighs. 

“We have to try.” 

* * *

Peter’s swinging through the air, the press conference still on his mind. 

_ “Why haven’t you found him? What’s his name again?” one reporter asked, all of them sharing a look before Sam spoke.  _

_ “Thanos.” _

_ “Where is he?” _ _   
_

_ “We’re doing everything we can to--” Fury had begun only to be cut off.  _

_ “What do you mean? You still don’t know where he is?”  _

_ “In case you weren’t aware,” Fury had replied, “The galaxy is big and we’re not the only ones dealing with this mess.”  _

_ “Then why are you here?” Another reporter had asked. “Shouldn’t you be out there? Searching for him?” _

_ “We have teams working on finding him.” Sam replied, Peter feeling hot under his mask and the camera lights - staying uncharacterisically silent.  _

_ “But you don’t know where he is, do you? You have no idea?” Another reporter had asked, the whispers growing louder as Fury tried to take control of the situation.  _

_ “As I said before, we are doing--” _

_ “You didn’t do enough.” One spat back, the voices growing louder and louder.  _

Peter shook away the memory, forcing himself to swing faster and away from SI - wishing that he hadn’t brought up the idea in the first place. 

He’d expected the anger, had expected the blame - but he’d been completely unprepared for how to effectively deal with it when the time came, inexplicably feeling like he was sixteen again - unsure of his place on the team and what they should be doing.

This wasn’t what he had wanted, not the glare of the cameras or the vitriol from the press - already dreading how this was going to pan out. 

Peter had wanted to talk to the people of the  _ city _ , to work with them - to share that anger with them, and move forward, somehow. To do it together.

It was the least he could do, considering where Peter wanted to be. 

He disagreed with Sam and Wanda, even if he got the sense that Bucky of all people agreed with him - that they should be focused on finding Thanos and making this right. 

But Peter also knew the wisdom of what Sam had said right before he left, remembering his words as he swung through the air. 

_ “We’re gonna get him, Pete. We are.” _

_ “Sam--” _

_ “But in the meantime, you can’t run yourself into the ground. You can’t be everywhere all at once.” Sam’s voice had gotten lower, gentle in a way that was meant to soothe but only grated on Peter’s nerves.  _

_ “I can’t give up.” _

_ Sam shook his head. “It’s not giving up. We’re not giving up.” He sighed, Peter holding his gaze.  _

_ “But none of us are going to sit around and let you kill yourself trying to find the impossible, man.”  _

Peter had left with that, bringing himself back to the present moment, sending out another web - the rush of the air around him doing nothing to calm the storm in his heart. 

The lead - the faintest remnant of a possibility - was a spark of hope, reminding himself that for as much as he was throwing himself into fixing the city that the fight, the  _ big _ fight - was still out there. 

That Thanos was somewhere in the universe and that Peter could have the chance to fix what had been broken. 

His failure and sense of responsibility had been driving him the past few months - even more so than before, compelled to try and make his city feel normal again even if he knew it would never be. 

But Sam’s words reminded him of May’s when he’d first told her about the press conference - that he couldn’t blame himself for things that he couldn’t control even if in this instance, this spark of hope felt like something that he could. 

Peter couldn’t change the past but he could try and fix the future - figure out some way to bring back the people they had lost, even if he didn’t know how just yet. 

It was a reminder of what that first day had been like, in the immediate aftermath of Titan - looking out into the stars and feeling more hopeless than he’d felt in a long time. 

Sam was right. He had to give himself perspective - to prepare for the fight that was still to come, knowing he would never be able to truly rest until he’d figured out a way to fix what he’d broken. 

Peter wouldn’t be able to let up on helping the city, not when they desperately needed him. But he started to run through possibilities of how he could still involve the city and the world, wondering if his original idea to involve the city would still work - with less of the press and more of the people he saw every day.

His phone buzzes, bringing him out of his thoughts as the notification pop up on his mask screen as swings. “You have a text message from May, Peter.”

“Read it to me, FRI.” Peter says, sending out another web and swinging towards the shelter - remembering his promise to stop by again to talk to May, knowing she would’ve watched the press conference and would’ve been able to give her thoughts. 

“It says ‘saw the live feed, kiddo. You okay?’. How would you like to respond?” FRIDAY asks. 

“Tell her I’ll talk to her when I get there.” Peter replies, knowing that for as much as he wants to talk about it that it would be better to have the conversation in person - the swing through the city also giving him the chance to clear his head. 

FRIDAY sends the message, Peter seeing the shelter as another notification pops up. 

“She said ‘You better.’”

Peter laughs to himself, the shelter ahead of him before stopping almost mid-swing - seeing a familiar head of curls walking towards it.

He lands on a stop light, his heartbeat quickening for reasons he can’t explain at seeing her - trying to remember if he’d told Michelle he’d be showing up today.

Peter dismisses that as silly, remembering that she hadn’t been there  _ for _ him in the first place. He’d seen her again since that first time, Michelle being focused on the kids and Peter with some of the older crowd - playing chess and allowing himself to be beaten. 

They’d caught eyes across the auditorium, a warmth in his chest that he couldn’t explain before he’d turned his attention back to his game.

But it was still a nice surprise to see her again so soon, walking with purpose towards the shelter before stopping - turning around and looking right at Peter.

He freezes, as if he’d been caught which in a way he had - feeling uncharacteristically silent for the second time that day as she nods her head and says, “How you doing, spidey?”

Peter sits up a little, hoping his voice sounds different enough though there’s no way for her to know who he is. “Just fine, ma’am. How are you?”

Michelle shrugs, looking as nonchalant as ever before her eyes lock eyes with his - feeling seen even if he knows all she is looking at is the white eyes of his mask.

“Just another day. Heard how shitty everything went down with  _ you _ today though.”

Peter grimaces under the mask, thinking of something to say before she surprises him, continuing, “Not everyone thinks that way you know.”

“Like what?” Peter asks, cursing his impulsiveness even if there’s an irrational and egotistical part of him that wants to know exactly what Michelle thinks of Spider-Man.

“That it’s your fault. All that Avengers shit is above my pay grade but,” Michelle tilts her head, Peter feeling like she’s studying him as she says, “You’re doing great, you know.”

It’s the same words she had told him on that first day, a generalized platitude if there ever was one but enough that it makes something in Peter’s stomach flip-flop - the irrational notion that Michelle  _ knows _ rearing its head again as she smiles.

“See you later, spidey.” Michelle doesn’t wait for him to respond, turning back and walking towards the shelter - Peter watching until she disappears behind the double doors.

A mixture of emotions flood through him, things he can’t quite put a finger to. He shakes himself, swinging towards the roof and hoping - irrationally - that when he showed up that she somehow wouldn’t put two and two together.

Peter shakes that thought off him again, sighing as he looks up at the sky - the stars starting to appear as the sun sets, reminding him of how he’d felt on that ship in space once again. 

Thanos was out there. A fight still to come. 

But Michelle and May were downstairs, reminding him that even if he felt like the fate of the entire universe rested on his shoulders, that for now he was still on the ground. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More chapters have been added because this story has become a thing™️ and I can’t help myself. It’s a long road to the endgame...
> 
> But we’re getting there.


	5. Perfectly Not Confusing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: implied descriptions of death involved with disaster clean up. Take care of yourselves!

“You doing okay?” 

Peter turned to face her, a tired smile on his face as he swirled around the coffee in his styrofoam cup. 

Michelle walked up beside him, frowning as she saw the cup in his hand. “You know that shit’s terrible?”

Peter laughs, looking down at it and then back to her. Coffee at the shelter  _ was  _ terrible, another thing Peter wondered if he could fix - even if it was a little mundane in the grand scheme of things. 

But he was exhausted, not getting enough sleep the night before and any sleep he did in the past week filled with images of Tony and May turning into dust. 

In his nightmares when he was younger, his mind would create vivid pictures of terror - dramatic and panic-stricken in a way that would wake him up in a cold sweat - of the car crash that had killed his parents, sitting in the back seat moments before impact. Of the shooting that had taken Ben, holding him as he died. 

But the previous terrors of his life almost paled in comparison to what he dreamed about now - Peter reliving the day Tony disappeared in seconds, his nightmare of returning back to the apartment that first day and calling out to May - only for his dreams to have it be where he was alone, finding a mound of dust in the living room just like he’d seen of Ned. 

It was as if his brain was specifically creating the kind of image that would haunt him, cause him to not want to fall asleep - and if he did, to not stay asleep for long. 

Last night had been particularly memorable - the first time that Michelle had been there, looking at him with the hint of a smile - standing in the middle of the shelter - before she dematerialized into nothing, seconds before Peter could even reach her. 

Peter had woken up with a start, disoriented and confused - for several reasons, none of which made any kind of sense to him. 

He’d seen Michelle more since the first two times - partly for May but also because it  _ was _ nice to see a familiar face, texting with her back and forth over simple things, but not anything really beyond small talk. 

For it being the end of the world and the kind of hell his nightmares gave him, it was the kind of mundane thing that made Peter remember that life - however fucked up the world was - still knew of ways to trip him up. 

But Michelle was in front of him, staring at him expectantly - Peter pushing the memory of that nightmare away as he says, “It is, but gotta figure out a way to stay awake somehow.”

Michelle gives him a soft-smile before looking back to the rest of the shelter - Peter joining her as they take it in. 

It was her last day working at the shelter officially, overhearing from a conversation from May that while the legal work wasn’t done that she was being sent to another shelter for the experience. 

Peter could barely fathom the kind of things she was hearing from kids - his own hands shaking any time he ran through reports from SI about pouring money into clean-up efforts and the things he saw with his own eyes, the process of cleaning up the city involving more than just moving cranes, trucks and fallen light posts - but of bodies. 

It was devastating to really wrap his head around, the sheer horror of what Thanos had done - so much so that he couldn’t dwell on it for too long, knowing if he did that it would cause him to devolve into a spiral he wouldn’t be able to get out from under. 

“Yeah but at what cost?” She finally replies, Peter smirking before taking a sip of the objectively terrible coffee - pushing his thoughts away to try to live in the moment. He makes a face, Michelle studying him as he shakes his head. 

“You’re right. Definitely not one of my better decisions.”

Michelle shrugs, folding her arms together. “Course I’m right. I always am.”

“Are you now?” Peter asks, setting the coffee back down on the table and folding his own arms - jokingly mocking her stance as she rolls her eyes.

“I know this is a weird sensation for you, Peter, being a dumbass and all, but there’s people out there who are a lot more observant than you are.”

“I don’t know, MJ.” Peter shakes his head. “A lot’s changed since high school.”

The conversation falls into an awkward silence, Michelle holding his gaze for a beat before looking out to the rest of the room, Peter hearing her whisper even if she clearly didn’t mean for him to. “But you haven’t.” 

Peter’s not sure of what to say next, if only because he wishes that he could know what she was thinking. Michelle looks back to him, a neutral expression on her face before saying, “I don’t know how you do it.”

“Do what?” Peter asks, a little confused as he unfurls his arms. 

“Still be… be  _ you _ , even with all of this.” Michelle says, uncrossing her own arms as her shoulders sag. “You’re right, a lot’s changed since high school. The whole world got fucking thrown into chaos by some idiot with a god complex.” She says in a flurry of words, the anger undeniable in her voice. 

Peter feels almost chided by them, even while she just holds his gaze as she says, “And yet here you are. Still working as hard as you can for everyone, cracking jokes about bad coffee.” 

There’s something in her voice that almost implies that he’s doing more than she is, Peter shaking his head. 

“You’re doing the same, MJ.” Peter counters, tilting his head. “You’re here helping  _ kids _ , kids who are alone in the world.” Peter bites his lip, thinking of the terrible things he’s seen since the snap - the special kind of nightmares that haunted him well after he’s woken up. 

“And yet you’re still  _ you _ .” Peter mirrors her words, Michelle’s expression changing subtly as he shrugs - shoving his hands in his pockets. “And if you think I’m not seriously fucked up right now, then you’re not nearly as observant as you think you are.”

Michelle blinks then lets out a sharp laugh, the sound of it loud enough that it makes a few heads turn to the sound - Peter cracking a smile despite himself. 

“God, we really are a mess huh?” Michelle asks, shaking her head and putting her head in her hand, a curl falling loose from her bun as she does so. 

“Yeah maybe,” Peter says with a sigh - the content of the conversation still loosening something in his chest as she brings her head out of her hand, looking back at him with an amused expression her face. 

“But nowadays, who  _ isn’t _ ?” 

* * *

Peter swirls around the coffee in his cup, sighing as everyone begins to sign off. It was his fourth cup of coffee today, already hearing May’s voice ringing in his head and - achingly - the image of Tony rolling his eyes in disapproval. 

He still remembers a passing conversation they’d had about it before - Tony jokingly brushing him off when Peter tried to bring it up. 

_ “Really Tony? Pepper told me that you once stayed up for 72 hours straight fueled on nothing but Red Bull and black coffee.” _

_ “What’d I say, kid? I don’t want you to be me, I want you to be better.” Tony had scoffed, waving Peter away as being ridiculous as Peter laughed - shaking his own head and downing the coffee he had in his hand. _

“Peter?”

His head snaps up, realizing once again that he’d been lost in his memories. Fury had long since left the room in frustration, the only ones still “present” being Carol, Quill and Sam. 

“Where’d everyone--”

“Meeting’s over, Pete. You didn’t miss much.” Sam says, Carol smiling as Quill stares at him - Peter ignoring it. 

“Nothing huh?” Peter asks Carol, the smile on her face falling before she nods. 

“We’ll get him.” Carol says, Peter nodding once - trying to hold back the disappointment, knowing her, Quill and Groot were doing their best. Or the best they could, considering the circumstances.

For as much hell as New York, much less the  _ world _ was going through - Thanos had made good on his threat, eliminating half of all life in the galaxy. 

The priority for the three of them was finding Thanos but Carol had been doing the hero thing for longer than Peter had been alive. 

If he wasn’t able to stop himself from helping anyone he saw, he didn’t expect her to either. 

Carol turns to Sam, looking at him meaningfully - Peter watching the two of them before frowning. “What’s going on?” He asks, Sam standing up as Carol sighs. 

“Nothing, kid.” Carol says, Peter holding his tongue - the innocuous nickname still being a sore spot for him in more ways than one. “We’ll talk soon.” She looks to Sam once more before her hologram disappears, the only one now present being Quill. 

“Hey man.” He says, looking at him like he wanted to talk - something Peter didn’t want to do, not with the day he’d had. But especially not with Quill. 

“Hey.” Peter replies, turning to Sam. “I’m gonna head out.”

“Actually Pete,” Sam says, Peter sighing - the familiar feeling of a headache building behind his eyes as he continues, “Quill’s been meaning to--”

“I just want to talk, man.” He interjects, Peter grinding his teeth before looking back to him. 

“I don’t want to hear it.” Peter stands, turning around - annoyed with him and this conversation, hearing Quill’s exasperated sigh. 

“Stop being a little bitch, Parker and—“

“Are you honestly pissed at _me_ right now?  _ Really?” _

“I’m gonna let you two sort this out.” Sam interjects, Peter forgetting for a moment that he was even in the room. 

“No, Sam. It’s fine, I’m gonna go--”

“Peter, come on, man. Can we talk? Please?” There’s something of an edge in Quill’s voice on the other end, enough to make Peter to pause - tense as he looks over to him. 

He didn’t hold a grudge towards Quill, at least that’s what Peter told himself - the guilt and the anger still festering, pouring himself into helping the city as much as he could to avoid having to deal with it, even if a small part of him recognized that the nightmares he had every night were due in no small part to the trauma, but also recognition of what he was doing. 

“I’ll leave you to it.” Sam says when Peter doesn’t respond, hearing him exit out of the conference room as Peter looks on at Quill’s hologram.

“Well, I’m here.” Peter says, feeling that barely contained anger rising to the surface now that he’s one-on-one with Quill, pushing it down. “Talk.”

“Pete, come on man. We’re on the same side.”

Peter sighs looking down at the table as Quill continues. 

“I know you’re pissed at me or whatever. Trust me, I fucked up. I  _ know  _ I fucked up.”

There’s something about Quill’s tone that grabs Peter’s attention, looking back and seeing something almost like vulnerability in his face. 

He didn’t really know Quill, not enough to have any glaring kind of impression of him aside from the wise-cracking he’d done on Titan and the few stupid jokes he’d give in any one of their interplanetary hologram meetings. 

But it was enough of a shock to the system that Peter paid attention, watching as Quill pressed forward. “I’ve seen some shit, man. It’s…” Quill looks at a loss for words even though he continues, Peter’s own memories of the things he’s seen bubbling up to the surface. “It’s a lot.”

“Yeah, it is.” Peter says in affirmation, a small sense of guilt shooting through him for pouring so much of animosity to Quill when now - in front of him, alone in the room - Peter can recognize that he wasn’t the only one left alone on Titan. 

That Quill had been right there too, had seen the consequences of his mistake as the people Peter now knew to be his family had disappeared right in front of his eyes too. 

Quill still had Groot, who Peter gathered didn’t say much beyond three words and had said even less since everything else. 

But the reminder that Quill had suffered just as much as Peter had - in the loss of people and the unbearable guilt at being unable to stop everything - makes the well of empathy that Peter usually reserved for everyone else to come up to the forefront. 

“You doing okay?” Peter asks, remembering how Michelle had sounded when she’d asked it - the kind of question that seems stupid in retrospect and yet feels most appropriate in the moment.

“No.” Quill answers honestly, Peter almost surprised by it when he asks, “You?”

Peter chews the inside of his cheek, fingers tapping against the table before answering. “No.”

It’s quiet between them for a moment, just long enough for Peter to remember that Quill had wanted to talk to him for a reason. “What’d you want to talk about?”

“Huh?” Quill asks, Peter holding back the eye roll he desperately wants to give - feeling more charitable towards Quill than he has since he’s met him, but still not enough to give him carte blanche to act however he wanted. 

“You wanted to talk…?” Peter prods, watching as Quill begins to shake his head furiously. 

“Yeah, yeah man I was thinking you know about-- about how everything went down.” Peter winces, the one thing he did  _ not _ want to talk about - much less with Quill. 

“What about it?” Peter says through gritted teeth, less from anger and more from the rush of grief that flowed through him - his mind playing another loop of Tony disappearing in front of his eyes. 

“Yeah, uh, not my favorite topic either.” Quill says, rushing forward. “But uh, I’ve been thinking you know, about what the wizard--”

“Doctor Strange.” Peter interjects, looking up to Quill as he nods. “Yeah him, about what he said.”

Peter waits, shaking his head slightly. “What?”

“He said ‘it was the only way’. Like he’d… like he’d planned it something.” Quill begins, tentatively - almost as if to anticipate the incredulity that Peter feels in that moment.

“What, he  _ planned _ this?” Peter says, the grief and the empathy whisked away as the anger returns. “He  _ planned _ for the universe to get half-wiped out? For Thanos to run off to God knows where, while the rest of us are left to pick up the fucking pieces?”

Peter stands, the anger flowing through him so viscerally it almost hurts - a pain that felt simultaneously like ice in his veins and fire in his heart as he says, “Tell me Quill, you think Strange planned for the whole world, the whole fucking galaxy to get thrown into chaos? Did you know I dug out a family today?”

Quill says nothing, Peter’s hands shaking. “A family, Quill. Moms, kids--” Peter cut himself off, pushing the horrible memory out of his mind - of his hands reaching for them, lifting the heavy piece of concrete as those working with him had rushed forward - an awful part of him being thankful that the mask could protect him from the smell even if he knew that everything else would be seared into his memory. 

“I don’t even know if it was just them.” Peter whispers, seeing Quill’s expression on his face as he says, “How much of the dirt around them was just dirt and how much of it was…” Peter trails off, knowing he didn’t need to finish - the implication dawning on Quill’s face as Peter runs a hand through his hair.

“You can’t tell me Strange planned this. You can’t, Quill.” Peter says, his voice shaky as he tries to hold back tears. 

Quill is quiet for a beat, absorbing Peter’s words before saying, “I don’t-- I don’t know, man.” He says, Peter hearing the resignation in his voice before he says for a third time, “I don’t know.”

“But--” he begins again, Peter not really wanting to hear it.

“Look, Quill I’m sorry I’ve been an asshole okay? You’re right.” He says, Quill’s eyebrow raising. “We’re on the same side. We gotta--” May’s words come back to him. “We gotta look out for each other.” 

“That’s what I’m saying, Pete.” Quill begins again, Peter going to say something only for Quill to cut him off. “I’ve been thinking and… I think Strange  _ did _ plan this. Or maybe like, it was meant to happen… the way it did.”

Peter feels a shot of ice flowing through his veins for a second, his look changing so fast that Quill immediately picks up on it before saying, “Not like, I’m not saying that what I did wasn’t stupid. I shouldn’t have--” Quill stops himself, Peter pausing only for how overwhelming the guilt and the grief on his face looked - knowing they looked nothing alike and yet the look of it making him feel like he was looking in a mirror. “I fucked up.” 

“But I can’t get his words out of my head, man.” Quill says, tears in his eyes as he continues, “He looked at you and said, ‘it was the only way’. Like he wanted it to happen, like he wanted us to  _ lose _ .” 

Peter sighs, his patience and his sense of control growing thin. “Get to the point, Quill.”

“What if-- what if we were supposed to lose, so that we could win?” He says, Peter making a face. 

“What the hell is that--”

“I don’t know, I don’t know, man. I just--” Quill runs a hand through his hair, something flashing in the background - some static from the ship they were on as he turns to face it. “I gotta go but look,” he turns back to Peter, a fierce expression on his face. 

“Sam’s been telling me what you’ve been doing you know, on earth. It’s good, man. You’re doing-- you’re doing great.”

Peter doesn’t need the affirmation from the man, his words falling flat where May’s and Michelle’s hadn’t. But he nods anyway, Quill pressing forward. 

“But I can’t help but think that there’s something we’re missing.”

_ Thanos _ . Peter’s brain supplies, Quill rubbing a hand across his face. “We still haven’t found the fucker but that’s-- that’s not it.”

He shakes his head, lost in thought before turning back to Peter. 

“I think Strange was sending us--sending  _ you _ a message. And I think if we want to win this thing, we gotta find out what it was.”

* * *

Peter’s still thinking on Quill’s words - looking out to the balcony of the tower, glad that Tony had bought it again. 

The Compound was still there, Peter knowing that Bucky, Wanda and Sam still went out there - the kind of solitude that he wished he could allow himself to have, even if he knew that the Compound would just feel more like a ghost town than the city already did. 

He hears the familiar footsteps coming up behind him, but doesn’t turn around - content to look out to the city for a few more moments before he received some kind of lecture or pep talk. 

Sam surprises him, saying nothing when he finally walks beside him - resting his arms on the balcony and looking out to it too. 

The quiet between them speaks volumes, a part of Peter wondering what Sam’s angle was - anticipating that he had something to say about everything that had gone down with Quill, picking up that he and Carol had some kind of conversation about it. 

But Peter refuses to be the one who breaks first, staring silently out into the city - keeping track of how many places were dark, knowing it was a prime opportunity for crime but also wondering if the electricity had gone out in some buildings. 

Stark Tech was state of the art, cutting-edge technology - but they weren’t miracle workers, Peter thinking that if they were that Tony would’ve created something to have prevented all of this from happening. 

Sam finally speaks, a low whistle that Peter doesn’t acknowledge. 

“I can feel the tension from here, Pete.”

Peter doesn’t take the bait, still staring out into the horizon - the sun setting, the shadows dancing across demolished and abandoned buildings alike. 

“You gonna live the rest of your life with that massive chip on your shoulder? Didn’t know you had it in you, to be honest.” Sam says, Peter biting down on his tongue. 

“Quill told us-- his theory.” Peter still doesn’t respond, Sam taking his silence in stride as he says, “I think he might be onto something.”

Peter snorts derisively. “Yeah, sure he is.”

“Peter.” 

Peter sighs, glancing over to Sam only to see him staring back at him. “What do you want me to say, Sam? That this--” Peter gestures towards the city, “was planned? Part of some--some big scheme to win?”

Sam says nothing, looking thoughtfully out towards the city as Peter brings his hand down - watching him. 

Sam had been nothing but supportive, even in the years before the snap - a random memory of the man catching him moments before he’d fallen to his death, one of the few instances they’d worked together before Sam and the rest of them left with Steve to wander across Europe to take out old Hydra cells. 

He didn’t deserve the amount of frustration Peter was throwing at him, his shoulders sagging as he sighs again. 

“I don’t know what to say, Sam. You know as well as I do that Quill’s just as responsible for all of this as the rest of us.”

“That’s where you’re wrong, Pete.” Sam says, Peter looking at him in surprise. “I don’t-- I think he’s right. I think maybe everything happened the way it was supposed to.”

“You can’t really believe that bull--”

“I do.” Sam cuts him off, the conviction in his voice so surprising that it shuts him up. “I don’t know, Peter I don’t…” Sam trails off, shaking his head as he looks back out to the city. 

“Something’s not right. We’re missing something and not just cause we haven’t found the asshole.” He says, looking back to Peter with a fire in his eyes. 

“You said last week that you still had hope and I told you that we needed to be realistic.”

Peter says nothing, waiting for Sam to continue. “And we do, we can’t-- we can’t live in the past but,” Sam shakes his head again. “Maybe there’s something we’re missing, something we need to figure it out, that’ll help us going forward.” 

“Like what?” Peter finally asks, humoring Sam only out of respect for him - the anger draining away as exhaustion fills its place. 

“I don’t know.” Sam answers honestly, throwing his hands up - elbows still rested on the balcony. “But that’s the hero gig right?” He almost smiles, nodding towards Peter. “Not knowing what the fuck you’re doing and going for it anyway?”

Peter lets out a laugh. “Yeah, something like that.” 

The quiet between them is less charged, Peter running his hands together before Sam speaks up again. 

“He’d be proud of you, you know.”

Peter freezes, glancing back over to Sam - seeing the sincerity in his eyes. 

It’s a reminder to Peter that for as much as he knew Tony that Sam knew him too - the nascent relationship that he had being strained from everything that had happened after the Accords and not being completely repaired after they were undone. 

But Sam still knew Tony, enough that Peter’s eager and grieving heart takes the words all the same - letting them in just as May and Michelle’s had before, like he hadn’t been able to with Quill’s. 

“Thanks.” Peter says, his voice inexplicably tight - trying and failing to swallow down the wave of tears that had been building since the moment he’d found the family. 

Sam looks like he wants to press it but doesn’t, putting a hand on his shoulder - the warm and familiar grip as Sam gently shakes him. 

“You’re a good kid, Pete. I know you’re not a  _ kid _ anymore.” Sam lets out a huff, patting him on the shoulder. “Just hard to see you as anything other than that pipsqueak in Germany.”

Peter smiles, blinking back the hot tears in his eyes as he says, “Hey, that pipsqueak kicked you and Bucky’s ass in that fight.”

“We were going easy on you.” Sam counters, removing his hand as he leans back on the balcony. 

“Sure you were.” Peter says, sending him a small smile - Sam smiling back. 

He doesn’t say anything further but Peter lets Sam’s words wash over him - how far they’d come, how Tony would be proud of him. 

That maybe Quill was onto something. 

And Strange had left a message for them after all. 

* * *

When Peter finally swings in through the window of his apartment, late enough that it couldn’t really qualify as night anymore - he’s bone-tired, exhausted in the kind of way that he knows he won’t be able to run from for long. 

It was a new habit of his, running himself ragged as a means of trying to get himself to sleep - recognizing that his nightmares couldn’t be chased away but hoping that the kind of mindless exhaustion that he felt now could be enough to shut off that part of his brain, especially since there was no medication that could really help him get to sleep. 

He closes the window after him, his eyes immediately adjusting to the darkness as he tears off his mask - reaching for his phone from one of the pockets he had on his belt. 

A message from Sam that he’d never replied to, a couple of texts from May and more surprisingly - one from Michelle, sending him an article about something that he’d asked her about - wondering if Stark’s money could also be used to help speed along the family court process - even if Peter knew it had less to do with money and everything to do with the sheer amount of number of kids who needed homes. 

He almost thinks to reply and tell her thank you before checking the time, knowing that if he did and he woke her up that it’d look bad and worse if she was still up - that she’d be in no real state to talk to him. 

_ We’re pretty fucked up, huh. _ Peter thinks to himself, reminiscing on the conversation they’d had in the shelter - feeling like it was a lifetime ago even if it had only been a few hours. Finding the family today, how sickeningly commonplace it had become, had messed with him in a way that a lot of other more morbid parts of clean-up hadn’t yet. 

Not so deeply and not for so long - Peter’s mind not being able to chase away the mental image as hard as he tired. 

And the rest of the day had hit him,  _ hard _ \- wondering if there was ever going to be a future where it let up. 

Relentless and overwhelming, Peter pushed down hard on the spider-emblem in the middle of his suit - letting it dematerialize, leaving it on the floor, knowing he’d pick it up again in a few hours when he stumbled out of bed. 

A thought occurs to him as he makes his way to the bedroom that he hadn’t talked to Karen in awhile, inexplicably thinking that his AI must miss him even if he knew that it wasn’t possible with her kind of coding. 

But the thought of Karen interacting with everything that he was now felt wrong, leaving her in the past just as he left the memories of what his life had been - not really letting himself dwell on the fact that he was using FRIDAY as a crutch in more ways than one.

Peter stumbles to the bedroom in only his boxers, thinking he should shower but feeling entirely too exhausted to do it - flopping down into his unmade bed, his chest aching as he curls the blanket over him. 

It was months and months later,  _ months _ after everything and Peter wondered if it would ever end. He was all too familiar with the grief cycle and how it worked, knowing that he shouldn’t feel guilty for being alive even if he did - shouldn’t feel ashamed of having laughed today, even though he did. 

The events of the day rush past him, from the time he’d sprung up out of bed in a panic from his nightmares to now being curled up in the same space, knowing already that his plan to exhaust himself into a dreamless sleep was already going to fail. 

Peter closes his eyes, only to open them when the images of the things he’s seen come rushing back to him - his breathing starting to become shaky as he clutches the blanket tighter around him. 

He was safe, he knew it rationally and tangibly. Peter still had May and Sam, Wanda and Bucky and everyone else that was left. 

Peter even thought of Michelle, the relief that someone he else he knew was okay even if he recognized that none of them really were. 

But Peter’s struggling with the weight of his grief, the tears he’d tried so hard to push down washing all over him - letting it drape around him, burrowing into it like it was the blanket he held tightly to his chest. 

Finally, alone in his apartment - the sun only an hour or so from rising again - Peter lets himself finally have a moment of release, letting the tears fall and the sob that had been building since the moment they’d found the family today pour out of him. 

His whole body shakes, clutching the blanket tighter - curling up into the fetal position and feeling so much younger and yet so much  _ older _ than what he was. 

_ Pete. _

Tony’s last words ring through his ears, insignificant and yet holding so much meaning - the sobs growing louder and louder as he closes his eyes, seeing Tony’s hand extended towards him in his mind’s eye - before disappearing again. 

It was unfair, all of it was unfair - the burden Peter felt, the weight of his guilt and the unfathomable grief, the horrifying theory that Quill had - that Strange had intended for all of this to happen, knowing what was to come. 

_ There was no other way. _

Strange’s words mock him, almost as much as Tony’s last words do - wondering that even if Strange had been right - if there really had been no other way - letting himself feel the pang of insecurity at wondering if he’d really been the right one to hear it.

Peter sighs as his tears start to subside, reminding himself of what Quill had said — what he’d told Sam.  


He wasn’t going to give up, not now - not ever. And if Strange had a plan, if this was really the only way - Peter decided then and there that he was going to do whatever it took to fix it.


	6. Becoming Whole Again.

“Hey May.” Peter says as he opens the door, jiggling the keys he still had out as he says, “You home? I got you some wine that I think—”

He stops in his tracks when he registers that there’s someone who is _not_ May in the living room, Michelle looking back at him awkwardly as May calls out from the kitchen - standing up as he walks into the room, setting the work bag he has down on the floor. 

May walks in from the kitchen, both Peter and Michelle still staring at each other in an awkward silence. 

“I didn’t-- May said you had a meeting at SI that was running late.”

“I do, I did, I mean.” Peter says, quickly closing the door behind him as May smiles at him - Peter’s eyes dancing between the two of them. “I didn’t know you guys hung out.” He winces, hoping Michelle doesn’t take offense only for May to save him. 

“Well, I promised Michelle that dinner. And I know your schedule is unpredictable.” she says plainly, Peter shooting a glance to Michelle who is staring right back at him.

“But now that you’re here, May says, the smile on her face genuine as she glances at the bag in Peter’s arms. “You said something about wine?”

Peter blinks for a second, tearing his eyes away from Michelle and trying in vain to swallow down his surprise. “Yeah, yeah I uh, I thought if I was gonna come by that I could at least bring you something.”

“I _did_ raise you right,” May beams, reaching for the bag in Peter’s hand as he gives it to her. “Never doubted it, but a good reminder.”

Peter laughs awkwardly before his eyes travel back to Michelle, seeing the pained - almost embarrassed expression on her face. 

“I would’ve-- I was gonna text you--” Michelle says, Peter cutting her off. 

“Oh you didn’t have to--” Peter begins, only for May to stop the both of them.

“You two can keep going back and forth but the food’s gonna get cold. You got here just in time, Pete.” 

They both turn to her, a small part of Peter wondering if May had somehow planned this - knowing she wasn’t nearly that devious or pushy but wondering it all the same. 

It didn’t help for how guilty Michelle looked, almost like she was invading Peter’s personal space - something he didn’t understand, even if he was still a little confused to how and why she and May were so friendly beyond the short time they’d volunteered together at the shelter - something Peter realizes he never got around to asking May about. 

Among everything else on his plate, the literal world feeling like it weighed on his shoulders - the secret behind why Michelle and May knew each other as well as they seemed to was low on his priorities. 

But it _did_ still bother Peter, enough that he desperately wanted to know - in a way that made him feel like he was back in high school, debating how creepy it was to know the details of Liz’s wardrobe. 

Michelle moves from her place in front of the couch, Peter frozen in place until she moves towards the kitchen to help May - realizing in a weird way that _he’d_ been the one to mess up their original plans, May’s words finally catching up to him. 

“Okay um, how can I help?” Peter asks, feeling out of place in a sense as May comes out of the kitchen - pot in hand, Michelle trailing behind with some napkins. 

“You can help,” May begins, setting the big pot down in the middle of their kitchen table, “By grabbing a plate.”

May’s smile was enough to put him relative at ease, shooting a glance to Michelle to see her doing the same - relaxing a little as he smiles. 

“Considering spaghetti is one of the _only_ things you know how to cook, I can do that.” 

* * *

Dinner itself hadn’t been nearly as awkward as Peter had anticipated it being, the conversation flowing easily once both Peter and Michelle relaxed and May - being May - served as the connective thread between them.

It didn’t make sense in a way, Peter thought - he and Michelle had been friendly enough in the few weeks that he’d reconnected with her. But having May there, almost as a buffer, reminded him of how little he knew of Michelle now. 

How she hadn’t really been joking when she’d mentioned that her father hadn’t really been around much anyway, picking up from context clues that he was the only family she really had and that his loss in her life wasn’t anything she wasn’t already used to. 

How she’d left New York and went to Harvard to start a new life, only to be inevitably drawn back to the city - something she’d already told him but sounded different in May’s apartment, filling in the gaps for why she hadn’t told anyone because of the idea of starting fresh in a city that would always be her home. 

It wasn’t until he and May were cleaning the dishes, May pointedly ignoring his stares as her and Michelle talked back and forth about some man in the shelter that he’d missed that he started to wonder if May had kept in touch with Michelle even if he hadn’t.

“I can’t believe I didn’t realize we were both at the same shelter sooner.” May exclaimed, turning off the water as she wiped her hands - Peter still staring at her as he dried the plate she’d handed him. 

“The day Peter saw me,” Michelle’s voice cuts out for a second, Peter not needing to strain his ears to hear her and really wishing he’d been able to see the look on her face when she continued, “was actually my first day there.”

“Huh.” May’s reply is short, enough that he shoots her a glance - knowing that for as realistic and pragmatic that she was, that she also didn’t believe in coincidences - Peter almost seeing the gears turning in her head. 

“Well that was lucky.” May finally responds, Peter bringing his attention back to the dish that was definitely dry. 

“Thanks again for dinner, May.” Peter says instead, turning to Michelle “And sorry, again for barging in on girl time or whatever.”

Michelle rolls her eyes. “She’s _your_ aunt, Peter. Thanks for letting me borrow her.”

Peter smiles at her, Michelle’s mouth up turning into a smile of her own before May clears her throat - the two of them looking back at her while she glances out the window. 

“It’s getting late, Pete.” May says, eyes narrowing. “Looks like it’s gonna snow.” 

“I should probably head home.” Michelle says, gesturing towards the door. “Subways are still a mess with everything, you know how it is.”

“Peter can take you.” May offers, Peter shooting her a look once again at the implication that Michelle couldn’t handle herself - even if a part of him agreed that the city, while never being safe at night, seemed to bring out the worst in people. “It’s on his way home anyway.”

“You drove?” Michelle asks incredulously, Peter wanting to laugh at how surprised she is.

“No I uh, I took a cab.” Peter lies, the work bag with his suit still sitting by the entryway. “But we can split one, if you want. May’s right, it’s really— it’s on the way.”

Michelle seems to debate it for a moment before accepting, Peter wondering just how many times May was going to succeed in thwarting his patrol plans - or at the very least postponing them. 

“Sure okay, sounds good.” She says, Peter ignoring the look on May’s face out of the corner of his eye - already knowing she’d ask a thousand questions about the ride when he got home. 

* * *

“Hey how ya doing?” The cabby asks the two of them as they climb in, the snow starting to fall a little heavier - glancing around the city before closing the door.

Michelle makes small talk with the cab driver, something Peter takes notice of only for it being once again something completely unlike the Michelle he used to know in high school.

A part of him wants to engage but he’s too distracted by looking out at the city, the usual debris and mess that still littered the city taking on a different light with the snow fall.

Sam had mentioned that it would be the first sign of real winter in the city right before he left, both he and Bucky on a trip to DC with Fury - amusing in an ironic way that the two who were formerly part of the rogue Avengers were now part of the unification effort with whatever was left with SHIELD.

The offer had been extended to Peter and to Wanda though they’d both declined - for arguably different reasons. 

Bucky hadn’t ever wanted to be in the spotlight anymore than Wanda had but Peter could see it in his eyes when Sam mentioned it, the sense of duty and obligation that he felt in Steve’s absence. 

Wanda had no such qualms, choosing instead to stay at the compound for what Peter could only guess was some time away from Sam and Bucky’s bickering.

Peter declined for the sake of the city - for Spider-Man, even if Sam hesitated when he said as much, recognizing from the look in his eyes that while their trip wasn’t exactly a vacation that he seemed to feel just like May did - that Peter was pushing himself too hard - their conversation on the balcony still ringing in his ears.

“You lost anyone?” He hears the cab driver ask, bringing him out of his thoughts as he looks to the two of them.

“Yeah, yeah I uh,” Peter thinks of Tony, the memory of him disappearing in front of him flooding back to him before he says, “I did.”

He nods, Michelle silently watching him before the driver asks, “Family?”

Peter grits his teeth, more memories of the last Christmas they all had - Rhodey in the kitchen with Happy, Pepper laughing with May and Tony, cursing to himself as they tried to string the lights on the tree together - the patchwork family that now only had two.

“Yeah.” Peter softly whispers, Michelle’s hand reaching for his shoulder - sending him an encouraging smile before bringing her hand down. 

“Can’t think of anyone who didn’t, man. Real sorry.” The driver says, Peter sending Michelle a grateful smile as he turns the question back to him. “You?”

The man nods, Peter intimately aware of where Michelle’s hand had been as he says, “Yeah my uh, my wife and our little girl.”

The loss swells deep in his gut, the hush in the cab immediate until Michelle says, “I’m so sorry.”

“Aren’t we all? Fucked up world found a way to get worse.” The man says, a twinge of bitterness in it. “Worse yet that none of those damn Avengers have done a thing about it.”

Peter freezes, aware of the criticism but not ever having the opportunity to talk to someone one on one with it. Michelle surprised him by interjecting, “Hard to place the blame on them considering the kind of asshole that did this.”

The man waves a hand. “You telling me they didn’t know this shit was coming? Had to, all of them. And they just _let_ it.” 

Peter’s stomach drops, thinking of Tony and his late night confessions - of the PTSD he’d had, of the danger that was to come - wondering how unfair it was that of all the people who would’ve been most prepared for such a thing that Peter had been the one left behind instead.

“I think it’s a lot more complicated than—“ Michelle goes to argue before being cutting off, Peter seeing the flash of annoyance on her face as the driver continues. 

“Life’s fucking complicated. You know what isn’t? Expecting the damn Avengers to do their fucking jobs.”

Michelle leans forward to say something more but then car stops, both of them seemingly surprised that they’ve arrived at her place.

Peter had had every intention of taking the ride the rest of the way but considering how fired up the guy was, he really wasn’t looking forward to another ten minute rant about how terrible his failure had been when he got enough of that on his own.

Michelle must sense his unease - Peter rationalizing that she understood how well he knew Tony when she says, “Well, thanks for the ride. Sorry for your loss. Come on Pete, let’s go.” 

Peter blinks at her for a moment before nodding, wordlessly giving a wave to the driver as he grabs his bag and exits the vehicle.

The snow is falling even harder now, so much that Peter can hardly see a few blocks ahead - shivering a little when he turns to see the pinched expression on Michelle’s face.

“You okay?” Peter asks, Michelle looking at him disbelief.

“Are _you_?” She searches his face. “That was… intense.”

“Not anything I haven’t heard before.” He shrugs off, watching her eyes widen only to quickly say, “Working at SI, you know. Being the owner of everything now we get— we get a lot of flack for, well you know.” 

Michelle bites her lip, rubbing her arms together before saying, “It’s not your fault, Pete.”

Her words have the same tone as May’s did, even if Peter can’t bring himself to believe them just yet - especially since Michelle couldn’t possibly know deeply wrong she was. “It’s really— it’s fine, MJ. Let me walk you to—“

“I know it’s not your fault because I know you.” Michelle says, feet firmly planted in place as Peter stops.

The snow is mixing in with her hair, the flurries coming down so hard that the wind is causing a few curls to whip across her face, Michelle pushing some of them back before saying, “You’re a good person, Peter. Don’t let— he’s just grieving.”

“I know, MJ.” He says immediately, even if there’s something in the back of his mind saying their conversation shouldn’t make sense - that Michelle doesn’t know the truth, that her insistence was misplaced. 

“But Tony _did_ know something was coming, he did. I just wish…” Peter trails off, not even sure he wants to voice the awful thing he’s thinking - knowing how terrible it would be for May and would be too similar to too many other stories of people who couldn’t live in a world where the rest of their families were gone.

“I just really miss him.” He finally settles on, Michelle giving him a grim smile - nodding towards her building.

“Thanks. For making sure I got home.” She laughs. “Not that May would’ve given either of us a chance.”

Peter shivers, bundling his coat together and tightening his grip - already anticipating that the swing to the apartment would be freezing unless he went ahead and found another taxi. “No she wouldn’t have. Sorry again, for showing up like that.”

Michelle shrugs. “I didn’t mind. It was nice, you know. Being around people.” 

Peter smiles again before saying, “Gotta look out for each other right?”

“Definitely.” Michelle replies, the smile on her face warm and bright as Peter searches her face - feeling a twinge of something in his chest that he quickly pushes down, realizing how close their faces were.

Michelle must realize it too, eyes widening a little before taking a step back - glancing towards the street. 

“You sure you’re gonna make it home okay?”

Peter waves a hand in the air, regretting it for the chill that goes straight to his chest. “I’ll be fine, I’ll find another cab.”

Michelle gives him a look like she doesn’t believe him, like she’s seeing right through his lie - Peter almost wanting to say something else to justify it before she says, “Be careful, okay?”

He almost says something flippant but doesn’t - seeing the fierceness in her eyes, a mixture of determination, resignation and something almost fear in them before giving her a short nod as he says, “Yeah, yeah I will.”

Michelle searches his face for a beat before turning towards her apartment, Peter about to say goodnight when he surprised himself with saying, “We should get dinner sometime.”

She stops, looking back towards him with a curious look on her face. “With May again?”

The snow is freezing but Peter’s cheeks feel hot, wondering what the hell he’s doing when he says, “I mean we can, if you want. But I was thinking like, just us you know. To catch up.”

She blinks at him before he says, “I realized tonight we haven’t really _talked_ much, you know? And how much I— how much I don’t know about everything. Since high school, I mean.”

Michelle smiles, the look of it making his stomach do flip flops before she finally says, “Yeah, that sounds good. Most of my favorite places are abandoned but--”

“I can cook.” Peter interjects, hoping he doesn’t sound as eager as he feels. “Not like to brag or anything, I mean we can go to your place if you want to--”

“No,” Michelle shakes her head, “I uh, I don’t cook. I can make a mean grilled cheese but…” She trails off, Peter laughing as he nods once.

“Okay then yeah, yeah let’s…. Get together sometime.”

“Cool.” Michelle says, “Just let me know. I mean,” she smirks, “You _do_ have my number.”

Peter feels embarrassed before she quickly says, “I mean, I had your number too. We should’ve— I could’ve texted too about tonight, you know.”

“Yeah.” Peter says, dancing in place now for how cold he was. 

“Ok well, I’ll text you. Or you text me.” She says, Peter nodding furiously.

“We’ll text each other?” Peter inwardly grimaces, feeling an awkwardness that doesn’t make sense considering they were just friends planning to have dinner. 

But then Michelle smiles, the warmth blooming in his chest when she does before says, “Sounds great.”

* * *

Peter’s halfway home, duffel bag in hand as he swings one handedly towards his apartment - glad that he decided on using the suit for the heater inside of it.

The extra warmth gave his mind a little more clarity, taking his time as he swung home to think more about the night and the conversation he’d had with the cabby and with Michelle.

A part of him knew she was right - that it was the man’s grief talking, a grief they all shared and an anger that Peter knew people felt.

And yet his solution had been to want to talk to people, to engage with them and see how they could join forces together - only to be confronted with the reality once again that not everyone would be so happy to see him.

The cab driver couldn’t have possibly known that he was Spider-Man anymore than Michelle could’ve, even if a part of Peter was touched that she was so quick to defend the Avengers since he could gather from their previous encounter that she didn’t care much for them.

A quieter part of Peter pointed towards the possibility that there was a reason behind that but he quickly dismissed it, swinging forward only for his senses to flare as he rounded a corner - hearing a scuffle in the distance. 

Even with one-hand, he’s quick - moving faster when he hears the panicked voice of a man being threatened by another.

“Look man, I don’t have anything.”

“Shut up.” 

Peter sees them, a man being held at gunpoint - his hands raised and the fear on his face melting into relief the moment Peter swings into view, Peter shooting a web towards gun and flinging it out of the way as he lands - dropping his duffel bag on the ground.

The man who’d had the gun turns around in surprise only for Peter to web him to the wall, the gun being slung back like a boomerang - webbing that just out of reach but close enough so the cops would know who it belonged too.

“Seriously dude? In this weather? This is just a cliche.” Peter says, seeing the angry expression on the webbed man’s face before he shoots another - right over his mouth to stop whatever idiotic thing was about to come out.

He turns to the other man before saying, “You okay man?”

He laughs, running a hand through his hair before shaking his head. “Yeah, yeah I’m good spidey. Can’t believe this shit still happens you know?”

“You’d be surprised.” Peter says, the two of them glancing towards the would-be mugged as he glares at them. 

Peter turns back to the other man before saying, “You live far from here?”

“Nah, I’ll be fine. This asshole just wanted some money but,” he shrugs, “don’t got any.” 

“You need a place to stay?” Peter asks, noticing how tattered the man’s clothes are before saying, “There’s a shelter not too far from here that—“

“Nah I’m good spidey, promise. Thanks though.” He says, smiling as he shakes his head again. “My boyfriend’s not gonna believe I met you though.”

“Sorry it wasn’t under better circumstances.” Peter replies, the man laughing heartily as Peter sends a web for his duffel bag - bringing it to his hand as he says, “Yeah well, can’t always get what we want it in life.”

“Take care of yourself, I’ll have the cops out here soon.” Peter says before going to send out a web to a light post, stopping when he hears the man call out.

“Thanks Spidey. For everything.”

There’s something about the man’s tone that stops him - glancing back down, seeing the solemn expression on his face.

“I saw that press conference the other week.” Peter grimaces under the mask, saying nothing as the man continues. “They gave you a lot of shit.”

Peter tilts his head, thinking of the cab driver and his anger. “They weren’t wrong. We should’ve— we’re trying to find—“

“I don’t know what went down but,” the man interjects, “You’re always looking out for us. Glad you’re still here.”

Peter doesn’t know what to say to that but the man seems satisfied, giving the finger to the mugger once before nodding towards Peter - shoving his hands in his pockets and walking down the street, the only kind of nonchalance that could come from a post-apocalyptic New Yorker.

He sits perched on the lamppost for a moment before he hears the sirens, sending out a web and swinging back towards his place.

_Glad you’re still here._

Four words from a stranger and yet they weigh heavily on his chest - not unlike how he’d felt when May told him it wasn’t his fault, when Sam told him that maybe it all happened the way it was supposed to, or when he’d heard Michelle defend him without even knowing it was him. 

He’s not sure what to make of it, but it feels like something - the beginning of a recognition deep in his gut as he swings through the city, the snowfall making it seem more peaceful than what he knows to be.

_It was the only way._

The words that haunted him for months are now rolling over in his mind - searching for the hidden meaning in them.

Peter swings, duffel bag in hand - his mind wrestling what everything that had happened tonight, the quiet voice in the back of his mind making him really consider the man’s words. 

_Maybe there’s a reason I’m still here._

* * *

“How’s Los Angeles?” Peter asks Shuri - the rest of the room devolving into the kind of arguments it always seemed to.

For all his talk of needing a plan, of needing to stick together to figure out what to do next - Peter was getting the impression that Fury wasn’t quite sure what to do himself, going back and forth furiously with Quill that Peter had neither the time nor the inclination to discuss.

Wanda was still at the Compound with Sam and Bucky still with Fury - Peter being the only actual person in the SI meeting room. 

He’d almost skipped out too, just like Wanda had, but something stopped him - still mulling over Quill’s words the last time around, the thought that there was something that they were missing.

Peter almost regretted it now, watching the two holograms going back and forth - muting the two of them as Shuri smiles, watching as she does the same on some control pad in front of her.

“Better than expected,” Shuri says, leaning back in the chair that she’s sitting in. “The Wakandan Outreach Center is working with the city directly. My brother is planning a trip out there in the new year as part of your government’s plan for reunification.”

Peter nods. “Yeah, Fury keeps trying to get me into all of that but I just,” he shakes his head, seeing Shuri’s thoughtful gaze. “It’s all a little over my head.”

“I’m not so sure of that, Peter.” Shuri replies, a warm smile on her face as she says, “I meant what I said before, the work you’re doing with SI has been phenomenal.”

Peter shrugs and gives a half-smile. “It’s not all me, Pepper uh, a lot of people she trained are still around. Making sure I don’t run the company into the ground.”

Shuri just watches him, the careful look he’s come to recognize from her when she’s considering what to say. He waits, Shuri tilting her head before saying, “But you were close with Stark?”

Something catches in Peter’s throat, his eyes shifting before he nods - clearing his throat before saying, “Yeah, yeah we were.”

Shuri gives a soft hum in response, Peter looking back up to her as she continues, “I heard about your press conference.”

He winces, saying, “ _That_ was a disaster. It’s not,” he waves a hand, “that’s not what I wanted it to be but I’m sure you know it goes.”

Shuri’s eyebrows furrow in confusion, causing Peter to clarify. “I mean you’re royalty, leading this whole thing on your own.” 

He laughs but there’s no humor in it as he says, “Then again, you’ve been doing this for a lot longer than I have.”

Shuri studies him for a moment, contemplative before saying, “From what I’ve read, Spider-Man has patrolled the streets of New York for years now. Long before Thanos ever came.”

Peter sighs, shaking his head as he says, “Yeah, I was— I am. Just,” he looks back to her, “kind of feels like the world needs more than a friendly neighborhood Spider-Man you know?”

Shuri gives him an encouraging smile before saying, “I have found that sometimes it’s the little things that help us when the world gets too hard to solve. My mother,” she stops - the pain that Peter’s all too familiar with in her eyes so clear before she straightens her shoulders, pressing forward, “my mother used to say that we are only strong as our weakest parts. And you Peter are not weak.”

Peter stays silent for a beat, his thoughts going back to the civilian he’d saved the other day, Shuri continuing as she says, “And I believe it takes all of us, in all our own ways, to figure out what to do next.”

Peter meets her eyes, smiling before nodding - letting the words settle in his chest before her face shifts slightly, a look he’s never seen before on her face when she says, “In saying that, there’s something I have been wanting to discuss with _you_. Something I think that you’d—“

“Shuri.” T’Challa’s voice rings out - startling Peter and making Shuri’s hologram turn towards his - Peter recognizing that the whole room had been listening in to their conversation at that point - Peter quickly unmuting them.

Peter would feel more embarrassed if they were actually in the room, but Shuri doesn’t seem to hold that same feeling as she frowns.

“Brother, I think—“

“Not now, Shuri.” T’Challa replies, a firm look on his face that just makes Peter curious - seeing the same look on Fury’s face. 

Peter sneaks a glance towards Shuri, watching as she seemingly holds her tongue before looking meaningfully to Peter - understanding that there was something she wanted to discuss with him though what, he didn’t know.

Whatever it was, he put a mental note to ask her about it later - thinking more and more of what Michelle had said, what the guy in the street had talked about and what Shuri has all confirmed.

Peter didn’t think he would never able to make peace with the fact that he’d been the one left behind. But for the first time he allowed himself to truly believe that even if there had been a _reason_ , that he would do anything to figure it out. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, this is a slow burn (it’s the apocalypse my dudes!). Yes, I have thirty WIPS. Yes, I’m still obsessed with this story.
> 
> Thanks for hanging with me! Halfway there :)


	7. No More Surprises.

“What do you think?” Shuri asks, Peter tapping his fingers against his desk as he thinks.

There was nothing preventing them from talking and yet Peter still couldn’t help the feeling like they were both doing something wrong, like he was a teenager again - sneaking out after curfew to patrol before May had found out the truth. 

Shuri was still looking at him expectantly, Peter considering what words to describe what exactly he was thinking. 

“It’s… an idea.” Peter finally offers, seeing the exasperated expression on her face.

“A good idea?” She asks, Peter seeing the hopeful expression on her face - one that reminded him a little of himself, in a way.

Peter sighs, leaning forward. “I don’t know, Shuri. It’s… I mean, time travel?” He asks incredulously, watching the way she smiles back at him.

“Is it really so hard to believe?” Shuri asks, her hologram gesturing vaguely towards him. “You were bitten by a radioactive spider.”

“That’s different.” Peter says, even if he finds that even he doesn’t believe him - seeing from the way Shuri’s eyebrows raise that she doesn’t believe him either.

It _wasn’t_ the weirdest thing he’d ever heard, vividly remembering his wild and animated conversations with Ned in the cafeteria after the Battle of New York - the existence of aliens opening a can of worms for what _else_ was possible.

Thor had been a myth, Tony Stark had gone missing and was assumed dead - the two of them gone but a lifetime of watching them, almost a decade of being able to lift a bus without breaking a sweat reminding him that of all the things he’d ever thought possible - time travel _really_ wasn’t that far out of reach. 

But there were too many variables to consider, too many possibilities and theories for how and why it could go wrong - much less whether if it was truly possible to do in the first place.

Peter shakes his head, putting a hand up. “All that aside like,” he leans forward, “how would it even work? How do you—“

“I don’t know.” Shuri’s quick to say, “not yet, anyway. My brother…” she sighs, her eyes going elsewhere before saying, “He believes that we should be more practical. We should think more of what _is_ and not what was.” She’s quiet for a beat, the loss of her mother and Peter can only guess countless others on her face before saying, “That we should focus on the future.” 

“He’s not wrong.” Peter says quietly, thinking of Sam’s words again back on the balcony - the conflict that he had about wanting to be realistic while still figuring out a way to fix this. 

Quill’s words came back to him then, the memory of how Strange looked at him on Titan - a part of Peter wondering if a wizard could control time and had freely given it up to, that maybe time _could_ be used to bring them all back. 

As much as the daily grind of trying to make sense of a world that didn’t wore him down, Peter couldn’t help but feel the slight sense of hope in his chest at the possibility - remembering his promise to himself.

If Quill was right - if he had been saved for a reason - Peter had to take every opportunity, no matter how small or impossible, to try and figure out how to change histort. 

“Maybe not, but—“ Peter looks back up to her, seeing the hope in her eyes as she says, “If it’s possible, I think we should try.”

“Do you think it is?” Peter asks, allowing himself to consider the possibility for a moment - the eagerness she has in her eyes stirring up something in his gut.

“I’m not sure.” Shuri says honestly. “We still don’t know where Thanos is now and as much as I want to focus on this…” she trails off, Peter understanding.

On the one hand, putting their attention on solving the problem before it had even occurred would eliminate the need for any of their relief efforts.

On the other, if this was a fool’s errand - they would’ve wasted valuable time and resources, both of which they couldn’t afford to do so considering the delicate state the world had found itself in.

The unification efforts had been mildly successful, a dark part of Peter being both thankful and resentful that it had - especially for the small pockets of people who seemed to praise Thanos for bringing the world together, in his own twisted version of utilitarian ethics.

It burned up Peter’s insides to think of and while it wasn’t widespread, it was enough to agitate him - enough to want to put his full focus back on the city and remind people that they could be united without being appreciative of why they had to be. 

For someone so accustomed to loss, Peter understood that you could hate the scenario you found yourself in and yet still find a way to move forward. 

But then Shuri speaks up again Peter watching the way her eyes flash before she says, “But if it is, I believe we should consider it.”

She waits for a beat, the hologram looking as clear as if she was right in front of him before asking, “Will you help me?”

Peter thinks about it for a second, a thousand emotions running through him before smiling - making a split second decision that he hopes he won’t regret. 

“Of course.”

* * *

  
  


“Damn Parker.”

“Hmm?” Peter asks, bringing out their plates as he sets it down - Michelle taking a bite out of the fried mozzarella sticks he’d made as an appetizer. 

“May was right,” she says, covering her mouth as Peter grins - sitting down across from her, “You _can_ cook.”

“It’s really not that--”

“Don’t say it’s not hard,” Michelle says, pointing to her third mozzarella stick towards him as he smiles, “Anyone who _can_ cook always says that shit like it’s easy and it’s not.” 

Peter just puts up a hand. “Okay, okay, I won’t say anything.”

Michelle smiles, Peter feeling something unfurl in his chest when she does - grabbing his fork and digging into the lasagna he’d made.

He’d double checked with Michelle about the dinner, making sure she didn’t feel pressured into coming over to his place or weirded out that it would just be the two of them - broaching the topic with May who, conveniently, had already made plans. 

“It’ll be good for you two to catch up.” May had said, something in her eyes that Peter hadn’t believed for a second but hadn’t pushed - excited in a way he hadn’t been in awhile at the possibility of getting to really hang out with Michelle one on one. 

It was the smallest of things, something that shouldn’t bring him as much happiness as it did at the possibility of getting to really learn more about what Michelle had been up to in the years they’d missed since high school.

But he still found he wanted to, looking forward to it all week - tonight being something that held him up when everything else felt bogged down. 

“Oh my _God_.” Michelle said, almost moaning as she took a bite of the lasagna - a strange sort of pride overwhelming him that she enjoyed his cooking as well as she seemed to. “This is criminal, you know that? Ridiculous. There is no reason for you to be as damn good at this as you are.”

Peter laughs, Michelle shaking her head as she takes a sip of her wine - setting it down as he says, “I _knew_ I liked hanging out with you.”

Michelle rolls her eyes, playfully - her curls bouncing slightly as she leans her head in her hand. “Don’t get too cocky. Someone’s gotta keep you humble.” 

Peter smirks, sticking another piece of lasagna on his fork before saying, “Don’t worry, MJ. I don’t think you’ll ever have a problem doing that.”

* * *

“Why are we doing this again?” Michelle asks, Peter grinning as he pushes the roof door open. 

“Cause you didn’t believe me when I said I could see the Brooklyn Bridge from my roof.”

“You can’t,” she replies, Peter extending his hand out to help her over the elevated step - Michelle taking it, Peter ignoring the jolt of electricity he feels when her hand touches his before she continues, “It’s a geographical possibility.”

Peter helps her up, letting go of her hand to wedge the door open - not wanting to get stuck and risk her finding out his secret by having to crawl down the building, even if the thought of telling her ran in the back of his mind - something he squashes down. 

“It’s _not_.” Peter counters, rubbing his hands together as she rolls her eyes - the city lights reflecting off her face as they walk towards one of the edges of the building, Peter being glad that for as relatively cold as it was and for the snow on the rooftop, that more hadn’t begun to fall. 

“It’s something about the angle that makes it possible and what,” Peter makes a voice of shocked surprise, pointing towards where the Bridge could clearly be seen as he says, “What’s that? Is that… the Bridge?”

Michelle scoffs, leaning closer to him as she looks - Peter’s heartbeat quickening slightly as she does. “That’s not the Bridge.”

“What the hell do you think it is then?” Peter asks incredulously, laughing as he says, “Come on, MJ. Just admit that you’re wrong.” 

“I will when I am.” Michelle says, turning to face him - Peter suddenly aware of how close they are when she says, “But I’m not. So I won’t.”

“Have you always been this stubborn?” Peter asks, hearing _her_ heartbeat start to increase a little as she purses her lips. 

“I don’t know, Parker. Have _you_ always been this arrogant?”

“Arrogant?” Peter squawks, “I’m right!”

“Sure, okay.” Michelle replies, rolling her eyes - even if Peter’s starting to realize just how much the decision to bring her up to the rooftop had been a mistake. 

Even without May, the conversation had flowed naturally - the food, Peter reasoned - being enough of a buffer that they slipped into a kind of comfortable camaraderie that they hadn’t even had in high school.

She loved her work still at the new shelter that she was at, telling Peter about the different ways she figured out how to keep kids entertained and talk about their stories - half-heartedly considering the possibility of writing a book, to help their stories be told and to serve as a record of what happened when more time had passed.

“I don’t think people will ever forget this, MJ.” He has joked with her, pouring more wine into her glass as she laughed. 

“People forgot slaves made most of our national monuments, Peter.” She deadpanned, Peter feeling his cheeks flush as he poured some wine into his own glass. “You’d be surprised at what people don’t notice.

Peter in turn had told her more about SI, tiptoeing around his work as Spider-Man under the guise of SI being more hands on - even if halfway through the conversation he realized that if he really was on the ground that there would be more pictures of him in the public as proof - something that there absolutely was, but of Spider-Man. 

After dinner was finished and the dishes were clean, Peter didn’t want the night the end and he got the sense that Michelle didn’t either - leading to a conversation on the couch that ran its course from the current state of politics - even more dismal - and the banality of a television show premiering again, the mini-controversy of recasting a beloved character who had died because of the snap.

He liked talking to her, liked debating with her - their current predicament being the result of what Peter didn’t want to accept has devolved from friendly banter towards something almost like flirting.

It’d been something gnawing at him in the back of his mind, a concern when he’d realized what he had done - inviting her over to his place for dinner - feeling more and more like it’d been set up like a date.

It wasn’t, Peter reasoned nor could it be - the _world_ being entirely too much of a mess, much less Peter himself to even consider the possibility.

Not when there was so much work to be done. Not when he was waking up terrified from nightmares that he’s not sure he’d ever be able to outrun. 

Not when she didn’t know his secret - even if a growing part of Peter really wanted her to. 

He shoves that down again, knowing that it was impossible - rationalizing that their proximity and the night wasn’t the result of a date but of catching up between old friends - something that he knew he needed more than a romantic relationship considering how much he’d failed at that in the past. 

Yet they stared at each other in relative silence for a moment, only breaking the spell when Peter hears sirens start to go off - head turning towards the sound. 

Emergency response teams had struggled in the aftermath of the snap, Peter lending a hand anytime he could even more than he used to - dropping almost everything when he heard the familiar blare of the sirens anytime he was near. 

But Michelle’s here, right in front of him - staring at him with a look on her face that he can’t place, knowing that for as much as he wants to change and run off after them that there wouldn’t be a subtle way to kick her out that _wouldn’t_ be suspicious - especially for the not quite awkward but not quite wanting to admit whatever their banter has been that had lead them up on the roof. 

Peter’s torn, turning away from the sirens before Michelle catches him completely off guard - wondering if there would ever be a time when she didn’t. 

“MJ, maybe we should--”

“Do you need to go?”

Peter freezes, wondering for a brief second if he’d actually said his thoughts aloud when he asks, “What do you mean?”

“Go.” She says, nodding towards the direction of where the sirens had been. “After them, I mean.” 

Peter’s heart feels like it’s stopped and beating thunderously loud in his ears at the same time. His throat feeling dry as he says, “Um, why-- why do you think that I--”

“Cause you need to help them.” She bites her lip, Peter seeing the resolve in her eyes before she says, “Because you’re Spider-Man.”

His heart jumps up into his throat, feeling a low-range sense of panic and eerily a sense of relief - as if he’d been expecting it, something that he doesn’t press until he says, “What-- why would you say that?”

Michelle sighs, almost exasperated but more resigned when she says, “Do you really want to have this conversation now?”

“MJ, I’m-- I mean--”

“You can think of a better lie for me when you get back.” Michelle says, nodding more intentionally towards the direction of where the sirens were heading. “Whatever’s happening, you probably don’t want to miss them right?”

Peter’s mind races - debating how absolutely insane this conversation was, a part of him panicking at the thought that Michelle knew his secret and another part of him immensely relieved in a way he can’t explain - when he finally says, “No.”

“So go.” Michelle replies, biting her lip before continuing. “I don’t know how long that stuff usually takes so I can go if you--”

“You don’t have to.” Peter says, walking towards the roof entrance - the sirens starting to get more and more distant as Michelle walks beside him. “I mean, you don’t have to stay. I don’t know how long--”

“I can stay.” Michelle says, Peter opening up the roof entrance door and looking back at her in complete surprise when she smiles. 

“Besides, I’ve been wanting to have this conversation with you for years.” She waits, the look on her face stirring something in his gut when she says, “I can wait another few hours.”

* * *

The sirens end up leading to a minor car crash - something Peter would almost regret leaving for, as awful as he thinks that, knowing the paramedics could’ve handled it since there were only minor injuries.

But Peter’s able to move the cars away and get people into the ambulance with relative ease, the paramedics thanking him as he swings back into the air, wondering what the hell he’d done by leaving Michelle alone in his apartment - confirming that he was Spider-Man for what ended up being a relative non-issue in the grand scheme of things. 

He runs through possible scenarios - possible _lies_ as Michelle had said - excuses for what he was doing but finds that he can’t, his mind instead going back to the conversations they’d had over the last few weeks - looks and phrases that seem obvious in retrospect.

Peter had had a feeling that Michelle _knew_ \- something he’d dismissed over and over again as being ridiculous only to now realize had been his mind trying to tell him the truth. 

That Michelle was just as observant as she always said, remembering how much Tony used to joke with him when he was younger how completely oblivious the people he was around have to have been for no one to have caught on to his identity.

 _You were right, Tony_. Peter thinks, finally arriving back to his apartment - doing a quick glance around before sliding the window up and jumping in, Michelle looking back at him with an amused expression on her face from his couch. 

It’s quiet except for the sound of the television she has in the background, Peter ripping off the mask and sliding the window back down as she turns it off. 

They stare at each other for a second - Peter in the suit and standing while she just stares from the couch, an unreadable expression on her face before she smirks. 

“I told you, Parker.”

“Huh?” He says, feeling inexplicably self-conscious at the realization that he was in his suit in front of her.

“I’m _always_ right.” Michelle says, her smirk turning into a genuine smile that makes Peter laugh - coming up to sit beside her on the couch, Michelle turning to face him. 

“How long have you--”

“Freshman year.” A beat. “Of high school.”

Peter’s head snaps up, turning to her. “Freshman-- I got _bit_ freshman year.” 

Michelle lets out something that sound almost like a snort. “Yeah, I know. No one leaves school because of the _flu_ and comes back with biceps like yours, Peter.” 

Peter blinks before nodding his head, pursing his lips. “Yeah, I guess-- I guess that makes sense.”

“But wait, back up. So you _did_ get bit?” Michelle asks, sounding excited in a way that warms something in his chest just like her praising his food had been earlier. “At the Oscorp field trip? I only guessed it was one of those spiders from the exhibit because of the whole,” she gestures vaguely toward his suit, “spider thing but I wasn’t sure.”

Peter laughs, shaking his head. “Yeah, I-- wait,” Peter turns to face her. “You knew about this _whole_ time? Literally for what,” Peter lets out a huff in disbelief, “ten years? Longer?” 

Michelle shrugs, as if the most guarded secret of Peter’s life had been something as casual as the weather. “I was really only like sixty-seven percent sure until college.” 

“ _College_?” Peter asks incredulously, Michelle nodding her head. 

“Yeah, after you skipped out on MIT with Ned to stay in the city it just kinda,” Michelle waves a hand, “fell into place.” 

Peter’s still in disbelief staring at the ground, only for Michelle to say, “And then with everything else, you know after…” Peter’s eyes meet hers again, understanding locking into place when she says, “It made a lot of sense.”

Peter’s completely at a loss for what to say, that of all the scenarios he’d run through in his head when it came to sharing his identity - that this, someone knowing for years - someone he hadn’t even really been all that close to - and not saying a word twinges something in his chest. 

He verbalizes it, saying, “You never told anyone.”

“It wasn’t my secret to tell.” Michelle replies, her voice softer as she says, “And if you wanted me to know, you would’ve told me.”

Peter winces at that. “It’s not-- I mean--”

“You don’t have to explain,” Michelle begins - Peter seeing a conviction in her eyes as she says, “It’s not like we’ve really been close since high school and even then,” Michelle shrugs again, Peter seeing through her act of nonchalance for what it was. “We weren’t _really_ friends.”

Peter wants to counter it but finds he can’t, remembering how he’d felt about her moving back to the city and not telling him - knowing that the secrets were wildly different in magnitude but yet understanding the wisdom of what she was saying. 

He sighs, messing with the mask in his hand before saying, “Thank you.”

She says nothing, Peter looking back to her - seeing the confused expression on her face when he clarifies, “For not telling anyone.”

“Peter--”

“I mean it, MJ. Thank you.” He says, Michelle staring at him for a beat before accepting it - Peter seeing the shift in her eyes.

“Yeah, of course.”

It’s quiet between them again, more comfortable than Peter expected when he grins, prompting Michelle to say, “What?”

He laughs, shaking his head. “I was just thinking, I don’t think there’s anyone in my life that I’ve ever _actually_ told about Spider-Man.”

“What do you mean?” 

“Well Ned found out cause I crawled into my room one night and he was just there waiting for me.” Peter laughs at the memory, feeling the lump in his throat before saying, “And May, she uh-- she found out when I wore my suit in my room.”

“Damn Peter,” Michelle begins, Peter hearing the teasing in her voice, “I’m surprised that you’ve kept it a secret from _anyone_.” 

Peter laughs again, twisting the mask again in his hands as he says, “Yeah uh, Tony used to say the same thing.”

Michelle tilts her head. “How did he find out?”

Peter knew the question had been coming but still felt unprepared for it, talking about Ned and Tony bringing about feelings that he didn’t usually dwell on until late in the night - staring up at the ceiling as he warded off nightmares. 

“You know, I don’t actually know.” Peter answers, looking back to her. “I don’t think I ever asked. He just-- he saw the footage of me being Spider-Man and asked me to go to Germany with him one day.”

“Germany?” Michelle asks, Peter shrugging as he said, “It’s a long story.”

Michelle shrugs, leaning her head in her hands - Peter searching her face as she smiles and says, “I got time.” 

* * *

“You’re in a good mood.” Sam says, Peter turning his head. “You actually looking forward to this?”

Peter laughs, nudging Sam playfully. “It’s not gonna be so bad. Wanda’s supposed to show up this time, at least that’s what she texted me.

Sam nods as the two of them walk towards the conference room, Peter seeing the snow falling in the glass windows across from them as Sam says, “It’s good for her, to not be alone.” Peter’s attention turns from the window to Sam, seeing the look of appreciation in his eyes.

“You’re doing great, kid. Has anyone ever told you that?”

Peter laughs, rolling his eyes as they continue to walk. “You, May, anyone with a pulse. What can I say, people love me.” 

He’s joking but Sam can see right through him - the expression on his face changing slightly when he asks, “New Yorkers certainly do.”

There’s something in his eyes that tells Peter that Sam is talking about something more than just SI things - vaguely replying, “Well you know I’m a Queens guy so…”

“Been hearing some rumors about Spider-Man lately, you know.” Sam says just as carefully, Peter’s gaze shifting from Sam to the conference room doors ahead of them. “Rumors about him meeting up with people around the city.”

“Interesting,” Peter says, “you know what they say about listening to rumors.”

Sam stops then, Peter pausing mid-step to stare back at Sam - the curious expression on his face causing him to wonder how much he should tell Sam.

It _wasn’t_ a secret exactly, Peter using his patrol time to actually talk more with people in the city like he had originally planned - the conversation he had with Michelle reminding him of how important the stories of everyday people were.

Peter wasn’t a counselor and he wasn’t trying to be, a part of him relieved that Sam had seemingly found out - wondering if he would be interested in showing up in a non-Avenger capacity, to more professionally deal with some of the grievances and emotions that people had.

It wasn’t always like the awkward conversation with cabby driver though there certainly had been some - Peter bearing it as much as he could. But more often than not, people just wanted to be listened to - to be seen, to be heard.

For Peter, who remembered his first conversation with Tony all those years ago, it felt like the right step to look out for the little guy in the way he knew how to.

And yet, Peter hadn’t wanted to tell the rest of the remaining Avengers - even for as much as he trusted Sam - guessing that his little operation would have to be told to Fury and would, in the same way the press conference had, go sour.

Sam says nothing for a moment before cracking a smile, folding his arms together.

“Didn’t know you had it in you, Pete.”

“What?” He asks, Sam beginning to walk towards the conference doors again as Peter walks in step with him. 

“Should’ve guessed you wouldn’t be a goody-two shoes like you were when you were a teenager. It’s a good idea,” Sam says, pausing before opening the door - his voice growing lower, “though I could see it getting a lot to handle.”

“Could always use a real counselor.” Peter says, catching Sam’s eye before quickly saying, “You know, if that was really happening.”

Sam smiles, the admiration in his eyes evident as he says, “Fury watches me like a hawk but… I’ll see what I can do.”

Sam opens the door then, Peter walking in after him - thankful in a different way that he didn’t have to explain why he didn’t want it to be an open secret.

It’d been almost eight months since the snap, the holidays coming up soon and the snow outside telling Peter that time - no matter how much he wished it didn’t - kept moving forward.

As he walks in, catching Shuri’s eye as he walks to his usual seat - he’s reminded that time was a flexible concept in a sense, the possibility of what could be still ringing in the air.

And Peter wants it, wants to believe that it’s possible - is sure he would give up anything to make it so.

But for now, accepting Sam’s offer in his mind - remembering the Christmas dinner he and May had planned, the one that Michelle was readily invited to - Peter feels hope - in a way he hadn’t in a long time - that no matter what came of his plan with the city and with Shuri, that things were going to be okay. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Febuwhump’s almost over but instead of working on that I worked on this. Things are happening!!!
> 
> (...and not just the slow burn)


	8. In Plain Sight.

TWO YEARS LATER

“This tastes amazing, MJ.”

“You sure?” She asks, looking back at him unsure - a look that feels unfamiliar as he stares at her, realizing he’s staring a beat too long as he grins, seeing the way May smiles at him out of the corner of his eye as says, “Yeah, I’m sure.”

“You outdid yourself, MJ. Really, you didn’t have to do,” May waves around Michelle’s apartment, the little streamers all around that Peter knows Michelle must’ve searched everywhere for as May continues, “all of this.”

“I did,” Michelle answers affirmatively, smiling as she sits down in the chair across from Peter. “You’re the _head_ of the Queens shelter now May that’s,” Michelle shakes her head, “that’s amazing.” 

Peter turns to May, smiling as he raises the glass of wine in front of him. “MJ’s right, May. You deserve to be celebrated.”

May looks like she’s on the verge of tears, before grabbing her glass of wine - the three of them quietly clinking their glass together as May works to compose herself.

As they all take a sip of their wine, Peter sneaks a glance to Michelle - only to see that she’s staring back at him, Peter smiling back at her with a grin so wide that his cheeks hurt. 

It had been Michelle’s idea to have a celebratory dinner for May at her apartment, arguing that since Peter had cooked the last time that it was her turn - a chance to flex out her ‘cooking muscles’ so to speak, considering how many times Peter had tried to teach her what he knew. 

If Peter was honest, it was a bit of a hopeless case. But Michelle had _nailed_ the pasta primavera in front of him, glad that all was going well for the night only for May to clear her throat - realizing that they had just been smiling at each other as he turned his attention back to May.

“Speaking of celebrations,” she begins, lowering her glass back to the table, “how’s that book of yours coming along?”

Michelle sighs, Peter glancing back to her with what he hopes is a comforting smile as she says, “It’s _going_ , I guess. I don’t know.”

Michelle brings a hand to her forehead, rubbing her temples. “It’s a lot harder than I thought, trying to get the stories together.”

“I thought you had permission from the foster parents?” Peter asks, swirling his fork around a pasta noodle as Michelle nods.

“I do, that’s not it, it’s more,” she tilts her head, eyebrows furrowing in the way they always did when she was concentrating on something, “trying to figure out how exactly to _start_ it you know.”

Michelle chews the inside of her cheek, Peter shooting her an affirming smile as she says, “Everyone knows what happened, it’s kind of hard to try and describe it in a way that’s not—“

“Depressing?” Peter offers, May softly laughing as Michelle just smiles - Peter’s expression softening as she nods.

The room falls into a comfortable silence at that, Peter messing with the noodle on his fork a bit as he thinks.

It was hard to believe that it had already been almost three years since the end of everything, the official anniversary coming up later in the month. 

Some days it still felt raw, like it had just happened - parts of the city, of the _world_ , still in a state of recovery - Peter knowing by now that in a lot of ways, it always would be.

Other days, it was as if some kind of normal had been achieved - as normal as possible all things considered, Michelle and May resuming the conversation between the two of them as he dragged the food across his plate.

It was when he was with the two of them that life felt the _most_ normal, even if a deep part of Peter ached with the guilt of feeling content in a world that had lost so much.

It wasn’t just the world, Peter shooting a glance towards Michelle as she started animatedly talking about something with May - wondering if they ever would’ve reconnected had the world not ended.

For as much as May had subtly - and not so subtly - hinted, he and Michelle’s almost flirty banter hadn't moved beyond that - neither of them making a move towards becoming anything other than the kind of friends that had eluded them when they were in high school. 

It was nice in a way, to have a friend like Michelle - the realization that she had known his secret for years and yet had kept it without ever telling another person causing him to appreciate her in a different light. 

He liked her even more than he already had because of that, but the idea of risking their friendship for any kind of relationship when they’d only just found each other again was a risk that Peter didn’t want to take. 

Peter wondered what Ned would think about the fact that she knew, or that they were friends - something neither of them would’ve expected back in high school. 

Yet anytime he thought of Ned, his mind reverted back to Tony - a pang of guilt at the idea that he could possibly try and make peace with where he was when Tony and the rest of the world was still gone.

Peter was accustomed to loss by now, as much as anyone could be - the loss of his parents and Ben softly lingering in the background. He never forgot about them and always missed them - yet the loss of Tony felt like a particularly sore spot considering his work with Shuri, the small steps they’d taken to try and figure out how to solve the impossible always hindered with the reality of what it would mean if they did.

Peter would give anything to make the world whole - to have _everyone_ in his life back together again.

But as Michelle and May continued to talk back and forth, their laughter carrying throughout Michelle’s apartment - a part of Peter felt guilty at the possibility of risking what he had now.

* * *

“Pete?”

“Hmm?” He asks, arm in arm with May as he walks with her out of the subway stop. The trains were running better now than they ever had been but Peter still felt skittish at letting May head home on her own, despite her claims to the contrary that she would be fine.

“I asked how things were going with you and Sam and your,” she gestured her hand vaguely towards the city, “group sessions.”

Peter smiled, playfully nudging at her. “It’s not therapy, May. Not what _I_ do anyway.” He faces forward, minding their steps as they walked forward before he says, “Sam’s the one who really helps people.”

“Don’t sell yourself short, kiddo,” May smiles, Peter’s eyes widening as he quickly affirms, “No, no, I’m not. I’m just--” he smiles, the memory of one of their meetings today and the kid who had asked for a swing around the city while his mom talked to Sam about their losses. 

It was a simple thing, the kid holding on to him for dear life till they landed on top of a billboard - letting him talk more about his school and his friends, another moment for them to pretend that it was just a normal day.

But there _was_ a sense of normalcy with it, Peter and Sam’s “group sessions” being just as much a part of his week as his daily patrols.

His life had a new rhythm to it - one he couldn’t have ever have planned. 

“Just glad that Sam figured out a way to help me out, you know.” He finally settles on, May smiling back at him with a look on his face that he recognizes.

“What?”

May just shakes her head, her grip on his arm tighter as she said, “I’m proud of you, Pete. Always have been but this,” she smiles, Peter watching as the corner of her eyes crinkle slightly as she does, “this has been good for you.”

Peter smiles to himself as they continue to walk forward, May’s apartment building in sight as he says, “Yeah, I think it has been too. As good as it can ever be.”

The things he’d felt over dinner came back to him then, wondering what Tony would think of this development in his life and how he could truly think of himself as happy when he was still actively searching for a way to undo the reality that they’d found themselves in.

He hadn’t told May about it, much less Michelle or even Sam - a secret kept between Shuri and himself, Peter knowing from conversations that she hadn’t told her brother either. 

Peter hated the idea of keeping this a secret, if only for what it could mean if they solved it. But a growing part of him didn’t _want_ to tell anyone - not just because the possibility of them actually finding a path towards time travel felt like running into a brick wall, but what it could mean for the small slice of happiness that they’d found in the meantime.

“You still with me?” May gently asks, Peter realizing that he’d zoned out as he shakes his head, smiling back at her.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m good,” he says as they walk towards the apartment entrance, May detangling her arms from his. 

“I can make it up the rest of the way on my own,” May sighs, searching his face. “You sure you’re okay, Pete? You were out of it during dinner too.”

“You noticed that huh?” Peter asks, cracking a smile as May just continues to study him. “Sorry, just thinking about everything I have to do this week.”

He sighs, rubbing his temple with his fingers. “There’s a lot of stuff SI has planned with the anniversary coming up, the city wants to do a memorial service but that kind of thing is a logistical nightmare. Especially since Fury wants me to be there but SI _also_ needs me to be there which,” Peter winces, tilting his head back and forth, “makes me understand why Tony outed himself as Iron Man to the world.” 

May’s expression shifts, her eyes still dancing across his face. “Is that something you want to do?” 

Peter furrows his eyebrows. “What?”

“Tell everyone.” May says meaningfully, Peter understanding as he quickly shakes his head.

“No,” he lets out a huff, “definitely not, even if Fury thinks it would make things easier.” 

He smiles, a sadness passing over him at the last time he and Tony had talked about revealing his identity. “Just makes me wish I could still talk to him, you know? What he would think about everything.”

Peter exhales, shrugging. “Then again, if he was here then none of this would’ve ever happened so--”

“Don’t tell me you’re still blaming yourself for all of this, Pete.” May softly says, bringing a hand up to his face as he smiles, leaning into it.

“I’m not, May.” She stares into his eyes, searching for the lie but finding none as Peter continues, “I don’t, not-- not anymore.”

She brings her hand down, Peter biting his lip before saying, “I just really miss him.”

“I know you do.” May replies, a sad smile on her face too as she says, “I miss him too. Miss all of them.”

She ducks her head, staring into Peter’s eyes over her glasses. “But we’re here now and it’s okay to move forward, Peter.”

She rests her hand on his arm, Peter seeing the pleading in her eyes. 

“It’s okay to be okay.” 

* * *

The next month passes quickly, much quicker than Peter had planned. The logistics of planning for the memorial unveiling had worked itself out, the powers that be deciding that Peter’s presence as the head of SI was more pressing for publicity considering how reluctant Peter was in using Spider-Man for another PR move. 

It was next to impossible that Fury wasn’t aware of what he and Sam were doing considering the man used to be the director of a secret organization. But he didn’t bring it up and neither did the two of them, Fury seemingly content to let it lie for reasons that Peter didn’t care to push. 

The thing that Peter was more concerned with now was the memorial unveiling and whether or not it was a good idea to begin with to be there as he stood behind his desk, messing around with some of the papers absentmindedly.

Behind the mask, listening to people share what they were going through - it was easier for Peter, knowing he could control his emotions and hide them without having to worry about anyone seeing how torn up he truly was about the things they told him and Sam. 

But as Peter Parker - he would have to put on another kind of mask, one that Peter was fully capable of doing and yet hated to all the same.

Peter would later count his preoccupation with trying to get ready for the unveiling for how surprised he was, hearing the door open but not looking towards it when he says, “I’ll be out in a minute, Sam.”

“Uh, not Sam.” The familiar voice rings out, Peter’s head snapping up in surprise as he glances up, surprised for a beat when he sees Peter Quill in front of him - shifting his weight back and forth in the doorway, almost unsure if not he was going to come into the room.

“Quill, uh hey,” Peter says quickly recovering as he gestures at him to come in, Quill taking that tentative first step before closing the door behind him, “What’s up?’

Quill doesn’t answer, instead looking around the office space while he whistles, “Shit, you got great digs, Parker.” 

Peter shrugs, bringing his attention back to the papers on his desk as he shuffles them. “It’s obnoxious but apparently it’s the kind of thing you get used to when you run a billionaire’s company.”

Quill snorts before asking, “Are you?”

“No,” Peter grins, glancing up at Quill to see the smirk on his face as he shrugs again, “But you gotta do what you gotta do.” 

Quill studies Peter for a second before nodding once, looking out towards the windows with his hands in his pockets. 

Peter walks out from behind the desk to join him, Quill moving towards the floor to ceiling windows as he glances out to the city. 

“Didn’t know you guys were coming.” Peter says, breaking the silence between them, glancing at Quill out of the corner of his eye.

It’s Quill’s turn to shrug, Peter guessing that he was feigning nonchalance from years of staring at the man through a hologram, thinking that the real life equivalent wasn’t that much different. 

“Whole universe’s depressing as hell today, might as well be around other terrans since Carol’s from here too.”

Peter just blinks at that, the realization that both Carol and Quill were originally from earth something that he didn’t think about nearly as much as he should - especially since they’d spent so much of their lives up in space. 

The years had mellowed some of Peter’s anger towards Quill - the two of them never quite becoming friends but being less likely to snipe at each other during their now monthly meetings. 

The universe was still in chaos, just as Earth was in its own way - but ‘team space’ as Sam had jokingly called it had it handled as well as they could, connecting with other beings that Peter was curious about yet never asked. 

What he was curious about was what brought Quill to his office, debating how to bring it up when Quill beats him to the punch. 

“You know, I was a real ass to you. When we first met.”

Peter frowns, eyebrows furrowing as Quill continues, “Carol told me about that uh, that counseling shit you and Sam are doing.”

“It’s _not_ counseling--” Peter begins, only to be cut off by Quill as he says, “Whatever it is, it’s uh, I hear it’s good. You know, to get stuff off your chest.”

Quill sighs, turning to face Peter - Peter mirroring his stance as Quill says, “And this kind of thing felt like something you should say in person.”

“You don’t-- Quill it’s--” Peter waves his hand dismissively, not wanting to hear the apology of a man that he’d come to relative peace with, even if a darker part of Peter just wondered if maybe he just didn’t want to be faced with the possibility of having to forgive Quill for what he’d done. 

Yet when Peter finally thinks it, it hits him square in the chest - the possibility that he didn’t need to forgive Quill anymore than he needed to forgive himself.

He had meant what he said to May all those weeks ago, a clarity that Peter feels even more so with Quill beside him. 

Peter didn’t blame himself for what happened to the world anymore than Quill did - a twisted part of him wondering if Strange had been right, that all of it had unfolded the way that it needed to.

Though a part of Peter wondered if it was just a way to cope with the unfathomable, he couldn’t deny that the old anger he’d held for Quill had ebbed away just as his guilt had - fueled instead by a desire to make the world they lived in even better, the possibility of changing it all to begin with in his work with Shuri.

He didn’t want to hear Quill’s apology because for as content as Peter had made himself with where the world was now, there was always the chance that his apology would be unnecessary if it was prevented from happening in the first place. 

“You’re a good person, Peter.” Quill says as he folds his arms together, “Hell of a lot better than me, that’s for sure.”

“Quill—“

“No,” Quill puts a hand up, “you are. Like dude, you have all of this,” Quill gestured towards the office they were in, “and you still hang around with people in the city. Helping with the big shit but also just walking a kid home from school.”

Peter’s eyebrow raises, Quill smirking as he puts his hand down before saying, “Sam never knows when to shut up.”

Peter laughs, Quill cracking a smile at that before Peter says, “Yeah, sounds like him.”

“But I’m serious man,” Quill says, his expression transforming into something more sober, “I know we haven’t always gotten along but I uh, I just wanted to say that if all of this was planned or whatever, that I’m glad you know.”

“Glad?” Peter asks incredulously, Quill quickly closing his eyes and shaking his head.

“Not--shit, not like _glad_ glad. Fuck, see this is why Carol should’ve been here to--”

“Did you _practice_ talking to me, Quill? Really?” Peter laughs, Quill’s face changing back to the vague annoyance that he’d had on the day they first met. 

“Come on man, I’m trying to have an emotional moment you know. Regenesis and all that.” 

It was Peter’s turn to roll his eyes, the ‘theme’ of the memorial that they had planned today. It was ridiculous, Peter had unfortunately sat through entirely too many meetings as a representative of SI with city officials on what theme - if any - there should be for the memorial service they had planned today. 

Three years still felt too raw in a sense, to talk about a new beginning. Yet Peter could feel the shift in the atmosphere with how people talked with their lives on the street, remembering a conversation with a woman in the Bronx who just had a baby.

Life continued to push forward, something that Peter understood intimately - thinking of the weekly dinners he had with Michelle, a smile on his face at the thought of it. 

“I’m just saying, Parker,” Quill keeps his tone light but Peter can see right through it, staring into Quill’s eyes as he says, “you know, if this all really was for a reason and--and that reason was just finding figuring out a way for all of us to get our shit together…” 

Quill sighs, patting Peter awkwardly on the shoulder before saying, “There’s no one else I’d rather be stuck on a ship to nowhere, you know?”

Peter smiles at that, Quill removing his hand as he says, “Don’t tell Groot though, he’s still a sensitive little shit.”

He laughs, smiling at Quill as he considers how to respond. 

A part of Peter thinks he should say something, affirm for Quill what he was feeling or try and commiserate. But Peter can see that Quill wasn’t looking for that, a look in his eye that confirmed for Peter that these types of conversations weren’t in his typical wheelhouse. 

Peter chooses instead just to nod, bringing a hand to Quill’s shoulder in a gesture that he hopes communicates that he understands, tightening his grip for a moment before saying, “I won’t.”

He brings his hand down as he says, “Come on, we better go before Fury runs out after both of us.”

Quill laughs, muttering something under his breath but shoots Peter a grateful smile. Peter smiled back, knowing without saying that they understood each other.

They may not be friends but three years after the end of the world - maybe the city’s theme actually meant something. 

Maybe they could have a new beginning after all. 

* * *

"Let's run the sequence again," Peter says, Shuri sighing as she rubbed her temples with her fingers.

"Peter, we've already tried the--"

"I'm just curious," Peter says, pacing back and forth in his apartment. It was past midnight his time but just after eight am for Shuri - Peter just as ready for his day to be over while hers was just beginning. "We've never tried it inverted."

She stares at him for a beat before typing something into her computer, Peter running a hand over his face. 

It felt almost _wrong_ to still be working on this, Peter getting the sense that holding back this secret from T'Challa was weighing on her just as it weighed Peter from what they’d talked about at the memorial two weeks ago.

If Peter was honest, there was a part of him that wondered if continuing to work on this wasn't just trying to solve the possible but that it was also hypocritical - looking back when the rest of the world seemed intent on moving forward.   
  
"How about we do one last sim?" Peter asks, bringing his hands together and rubbing them furiously. "Then we can call it a night."

"Your _night_ is my morning, Peter." Shuri says with a smirk on her face, her hologram shimmering a little as Peter laughs.

"Yeah, yeah I know." Peter scratches the back of his neck, looking around. "I need to clean this place up."

"Can you not get your servants to do it for you?" Shuri teases, Peter rolling his eyes as he walks up to where her hologram was placed, folding his arms together.

"Ha ha, very funny _Princess_. Come on, you probably need to get back to work anyway."

Shuri smiles at him before her face falls, Peter regretting the fact that he brought it up in the first place. "Sorry, I know we don't-- this--"

"Was my idea, Peter. I don't forget that," Shuri interjects, looking meaningfully at Peter before saying, "But I do wonder sometimes..." She trails off, eyes shifting to somewhere off screen, Peter understanding what she's intending.

"I do too." He answers, running a hand through his hair. "I know we're close, like I know this is possible but sometimes I wonder if it's _right_ you know--"

"Peter--" Shuri begins but Peter just presses forward.

"I mean we talk so much about how we're supposed to be helping people _now_ , about helping people move forward and instead here we are, trying to figure out a way to change it all from happening in the first place."

"Peter, I think we--"

"Maybe that's the key actually," Peter says, seeing Shuri's alarm out of the corner of her eye as he continues, "Maybe we shouldn't be so concerned about trying to _undo_ it but maybe figuring out a way to change it? We're trying so hard to figure out the mechanics of this when really--"

"Peter!"

Peter finally turns to look at Shuri, seeing the wide eyed expression on her face before asking, "What?"

She doesn't get the chance to answer when his own phone starts buzzing, glancing over to it curiously as he reaches for it.

"It's Thanos," Shuri finally says, Peter's stomach dropping when he sees the message flash across his phone - an alert that he'd never thought he'd see from Carol's message system, something that almost makes him drop his phone.   
  


WE FOUND HIM.


	9. I Can't Risk This.

Peter thrummed his fingers against his thigh, the whole room full of nervous energy. 

He’d had enough of space if he was honest, his one lone trip to the outer parts of his universe being more than enough for one lifetime. 

But now, all Peter could think of was what they could be doing now - completely ill-equipped to fly out there themselves and waiting for Carol, Quill and Groot to get back to them. 

“When will they call in?” He hears Sam ask, turning to look at him in surprise, seeing for the first time how nervous he is in all the years he’s known him.

“Any moment,” T’Challa answers, Peter meeting Shuri’s eyes before flicking back to T’Challa’s hologram, “Carol is communicating with the Intelligence now.”

“The  _ what? _ ” Bucky asks, looking just as confused as Peter feels when Fury answers. 

“Leader of the Kree. Apparently, they were aware of where Thanos was all this time.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” Sam says, Peter seeing a flash of red in Wanda’s eyes before turning back to Fury.

“It’s some bullshit is what it is,” Fury says, grinding his teeth, “But what’s done is done. Whole world, whole  _ universe _ is going want to a piece of that son of a bitch when—“

Fury’s cut off by the appearance of Carol’s hologram, looking more worn and exhausted than Peter’s ever seen her.

“Captain, report.”

“It’s a mess, Nick,” Carol begins, straightening her shoulders, “But it’s handled.”

“Handled?” Sam interjects, Peter leaning forward as Sam says, “What the hell is that supposed to be mean?”

“It means that Thanos is currently under the jurisdiction of the Galactic Council,” Carol sighing as pinched the bridge of her nose, “who were also unaware that the Intelligence knew of Thanos’ location. There’s a lot of political--"

"I don't care about the politics, Carol. I care about the issue at hand. Do we or do we not have Thanos?"

Carol sounds and looks exasperated - as if she'd somehow had a conversation similar to this before as she brings her hand down, staring at Fury.

"We do. But it's not just  _ ours _ to have, Nick."

"What does that mean?" T'Challa asks, interjecting before Fury can go into another tirade.

"It means," Carol says meaningfully, glancing towards Fury before turning her attention back to T'Challa, "that we're not the only ones who want to see him brought to justice. What he did on earth happened everywhere in the universe..." Carol trails off, shaking her head before looking back to Fury.

"What Thanos did was an abomination on a multi-galactic scale, Nick. Earth isn't the only one who suffered and they're not the only ones who want to see that bastard pay."

Fury grinds his teeth again, Peter watching them all go back and forth before Wanda chimes in - her voice low and quiet.

“So that’s it.” Wanda says in monotone, the whole room looking over to her, "We won."

The anxiety and anticipation building in Peter's gut releases at that, the truth of what Wanda was saying settling all over them as he sits back - hearing Carol speak once more.

"We found him. That's... that's something. And he'll pay for what he's done." Peter glances up to her, seeing the firmness of her expression.

"To everyone."

* * *

Peter doesn't stick around for the goodbyes, the whole room deflating slightly as they go off into their separate ways - the mood shifting into something uncomfortable.

For almost three years, they'd all been focused on finding Thanos - an ever present threat in the background as they tried to rebuild the rest of their world. Now he'd been found, sent off to a trial from some interplanetary justice system - something that Peter can recognize makes sense for the scale of what he's done but still unable to reconcile what that means for everyone on earth.

He knows Fury well enough by now to know that the man no doubt already has some kind of plan for how to spin this for the Avengers good, even if Carol or any of 'team space' were ever a part of the team. The absence of Quill and Groot in the conference call nudged at Peter, wondering if maybe Carol's exasperation had less to do with her politicking with space beings and rather arguing with a man that Peter knows would want to execute his own particular brand of justice.

He shoves that away from now, his phone buzzing once more - seeing the hologram request from Shuri.

Their conversation in his apartment feels like years ago even if it had only been an hour, Peter tapping a few things on the StarkPad on his office desk - glancing at the closed door before accepting the call.

Shuri pops up looking like Peter feels - tired, confused and as if there were a million things to say and no words to describe them.

Peter chews the inside of his cheek for a moment before Shuri sighs, Peter watching as she puts her head in her hands.

"I know that this is what we've been working for," she begins, her voice muffled slightly until she brings her head back up - staring back at Peter, "so why does it feel like we've lost?"

"I don't know," Peter answers honestly, leaning back in his chair as he shakes his head, "I don't know what I expected to happen or what we'd do. I mean, I didn't even think..." he trails off, not wanting to put the words out into the universe even if Shuri seems to catch on to what he's meaning, nodding slightly.

For all of Carol, Quill and Groot's work in trying to find Thanos, for all of the late nights and early mornings that he and Shuri put in to try and figure out how to prevent this from happening in the first place - a part of Peter never really expected them to find him. A needle in a haystack if there ever was one.

But now that they had and from what Carol had said before the meeting had ended - the stones were gone, turned to ash by Thanos himself on the same day that he wrecked the universe.

Now, sitting in an office that he never asked for but was still undeniably his - Peter wondered if maybe this had been a part of Strange's plan.

Peter pushes that away, physically shaking his head as he leans forward - looking back to Shuri who was staring at him with a pained expression on her face.

Thanos would be dealt with, Peter knew that in his gut - even if he wasn't sure if there would ever be a punishment that could encapsulate the horrors that he'd wrought over all the universe.

But there was something final to it, a sense of closure that Peter had honestly never expected to get - staring at Shuri and remembering what their previous conversation before they'd gotten the news.

Shuri beats him to it, closing her eyes as she says, "I think it is time we stop, Peter."

Peter stares at her for a beat, feeling something in his throat - a small sense that they shouldn't, that they can't - that they still have to  _ try.  _ But he can't bring himself to do it, watching as Shuri opens her eyes again, her eyes glistening with tears.

"We've won, as Wanda said. We've found him. And the stones," Shuri shakes her head, bringing her hands to her lips before resting her chin on them, "without them, I'm not sure if we can proceed."

Peter swallows, clearing his throat before saying, "We never did figure out how we were going to undo it."

"No," Shuri says with a sad smile, "nor did our algorithms ever work." She sighs, her shoulders sagging as she shakes her head.

"But this is not the time for sadness. We found him, Thanos. We  _ won _ ."

Peter nods, trying and failing to smile at her - getting the sense that she was trying to convince herself just as much as she was trying to convince him.

They had won, Peter knew that logically - knew that this would be a day for the history books and something that would be commemorated for decades to come.

But the reality of what this means, of the two of them truly choosing to stop finding a way to undo what Thanos had done wasn't lost on either of them.

Thanos was captured. They had won... and yet all Peter could think was that it still somehow felt as if they had lost.

* * *

Peter doesn't remember making it back to his apartment, vaguely remembering stripping off his suit and falling into bed only a few hours before he was supposed to get up for work.

He didn't plan on it - didn't plan on doing anything, knowing that Fury would announce to the world first thing what had happened, something that Peter for one - did not want to be a part of.

Three years later and Peter didn't consider himself an Avenger. And now with Thanos found and his failed time travel mission shelved, a part of Peter felt as if he wouldn't ever be able to call himself one.

When Peter does finally wake up, his body feels stiff - cracking an eye open to see the window to his bedroom dimly lit, the light peeking in looking as if it was either early morning or late afternoon.

He hears the knocking at his door - the sound that woke him up - before reaching for his phone, seeing dozens of missed calls. He skims through them, typing out a message to May only for the phone to buzz again - Michelle's contact info popping up and the knocking at his door returning.

"Parker, I know you're in there. Open up." He hears her yell out from the door, smirking as he answers the phone.

"Sorry I'm not in right now," he says, lifting himself off the bed and out towards the living room, "Please leave a message after the beat."

"Ha. Funny. Open up, I got food." Peter hangs up and does what he's asked, seeing Michelle's smirk in real life before she glances down - immediately shifting her eyes elsewhere.

It's in that moment that Peter remembers that he'd stripped down to his boxers before he fell asleep, offering a quick apology before waving her in.

"Sorry, sorry, I'll--"

"Not my first time seeing you half-naked, Parker," Michelle says, even if he can tell there's a hint of embarrassment in them, "you had a bad habit of wiping your face off in gym with your t-shirt."

Michelle smiles at him, rolling her eyes. "Honestly, it's a wonder that no one ever figured out that your identity in high school with abs like yours."

"Is there a point to why you came over or did you just want to harass me?" Peter asks, grabbing a t-shirt that he'd left on his couch - hoping that it was clean even if the chances of that were slim.

He puts it on as Michelle says, "I brought some 'you got the bastard' takeout." Peter's head pops out over the sleeve to see the styrofoam packaging in her hand, a smile on her face though Peter can see it doesn't reach her eyes.

"Funny though, that you weren't there for the big press conference."

"You know me," Peter says, offering to take the bags as she passes them over - putting them down on his coffee table before walking to his bedroom to grab a pair of sweatpants, "never been one for the spotlight."

He shoves on the quickest pair that he can find when he walks back into the room, Michelle sitting on his couch and looking at him expectantly.

“Yes?” He asks, at a loss for what could’ve brought Michelle to his apartment - though the two of them had taken to dropping in unnannounced at each other’s places from nearly the beginning of their rekindled friendship. 

But there was something different in Michelle’s look today, an uncertainty that Peter didn’t recognize as she tapped her fingers against her thigh.

“Are you okay?" She asks, Peter looking at her up and down with a smirk.

"Am  _ I  _ okay? You're the one who showed up to my apartment with," Peter walked over and opened the styrofoam packaging, "general tsao?"

He smiles but Michelle sees right through him, staring at him in silence before Peter sighs.

"I'm fine, MJ."

"You don't  _ look _ fine," she deadpans, Peter frowning as she continues, "This is supposed to be one of the best days of your life and you're what, holed up in your apartment? Sleeping the day away?"

Peter purses his lips before sighing again, walking over to sit beside her on the couch. He bounces his leg and down for a moment before running his fingers through his hair, propping his head up with his hand before saying, "I don't know. I-- it's been a weird night."

"I'll bet. You wanna talk about it?" Michelle asks, Peter lifting his head up to look at her.

Of all the people he could talk to about what he was feeling, Michelle was probably one of the better ones - knowing that anyone who'd been in the room when they found out the news of what should arguably be something to celebrate would have their own complicated emotions to deal with.

He could - and should - talk to May, Peter knows that. His aunt was a much better listener than he had ever given her credit for when he was younger.

But there was something about the way that Michelle's eyes traveled all over him, sparking something funny in his chest that she hadn't seen him at the press conference and had decided that she needed to check up on him.

It was a nice thing, a friend thing - Peter was sure of it, chewing the inside of his cheek again.

He'd never told anyone what he and Shuri had been planning, even if a part of him guessed that Sam, Fury and T'Challa had to have known - the three of them being entirely too observant not to.

It felt like a failure and a risk all at once - to tell Michelle what they had almost done, what they had  _ failed _ in finding.

But looking into Michelle's eyes, seeing a warmth in them that makes Peter feel at home - he takes the plunge.

"Yeah," he says with a small smile, "I do."

* * *

Peter folds up the packaging as Michelle takes it all in, the conversation lasting throughout the duration of dinner - Peter putting away the now empty boxes as Michelle blew air out of her mouth.

"Wow."

"Wow? That's it?" Peter says with a smirk, Michelle shrugging her shoulders.

"I mean I don't know what else to say. Time travel? Galactic war councils? This is all," she shakes her head, "way above my paygrade."

"Mine too," Peter says as he nudges her with his elbows, intimately aware that their knees are a hairbreadth away from touch, "partly why I didn't show up today."

"Is that really why or is that what you're telling yourself?" Michelle asks in the honest way she always does, hating how observant and forthright she still was.

"Both."

Michelle raises an eyebrow.

"Mostly the latter." Peter amends, Michelle leaning forward - their faces only inches from each other, Peter's heart rate spiking in a way that he doesn't want to think too much about.

"It's not giving up, Pete."

"Kinda feels like giving up. We got Thanos but... " Peter feels something catch in his throat, Michelle nodding as she gives a soft smile.

"We still lost everyone else."

"Yeah." Peter's voice breaks, thinking of Tony... of Ned and Pepper and Happy and Rhodes... the billions of people who were gone.

They'd been gone -  _ dead _ , Peter thinks - for three years but now, with Thanos found and he and Shuri officially ending their pipe dream - it as if it was finally sinking in.

Justice would be given towards Thanos, though what justice could really be found - Peter didn't know. But as much as it hurt to think about, ending their search for time travel felt right - if only because searching for a fix now when the world had found some small semblance of closure felt wrong.

Michelle's hand rests on his, Peter's eyes shooting towards her for a moment only to see the expression on her face - slipping his fingers into hers without saying a word.

The feelings he had for Michelle - feelings he didn't trust himself with - were anything but friendly but in that moment, her hand in his also felt right - a quiet shift in their friendship that grounded him while the storm raged in his heart.

It wasn't giving up - it couldn't be, not when Peter knew both he and Shuri had been questioning what they were doing before Thanos had even been found.

Maybe it was a sign from the universe - a sign from Strange, in some weird way - that he and Shuri had to keep working so that they could hold out hope.

So that now, the world and the universe could find some kind of solace in each other - truly move forward knowing that they had done everything they could to make it okay.

Michelle gently squeezes his hand, Peter shooting her a grateful smile as he returns it - feeling as if she understood without him having to say a word.

The world would never be okay - would never really go back to the way it used to. Yet all Peter can think of in that moment is that maybe this was it - that this monumental tragedy that had split the universe in half could somehow unite them in moving forward.

That maybe now - Thanos captured and the world ready to have a new beginning - that he could allow himself the chance to believe in it for himself. 

That maybe, her hand warm and soft in his, Peter could have a new beginning too. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're in the endgame now ;)


	10. I Was Made For This.

“You still with us, spidey?”

“Hmm?” Peter turns to see Sam looking at him with an amused smirk on his face - the rest of the room waiting expectantly.

“Sorry, car alarm a few blocks down distracted me,” Peter lies, seeing the amazed expression of the guy next to him, “what was the question?”

“Marlon asked how your week was going, man. If you had anything you wanted to share.” Sam says encouragingly, the kind of look on his face that Peter recognizes from years of knowing and working with him.

It’s a look that tells him that he knows a car alarm wasn’t distracting him, that if Peter didn’t make a quick get away after all of this was wrapped up - he’d corner him to see what was up.

Peter glances around the room before nodding, glad he could hide his expression under the mask as he said, “Nothing much to report. Got into a friendly debate with some bodega guy about the Mets.”

The whole room whistles, a small smile on the guy’s face next to him - Ramiro, Peter remembers - who says, “Man, I miss the Mets.”

“Glad someone does.” Another guy says, seeing Sam’s smile out of the corner of his eye.

“Now, guys come on. Let’s play nice here.” Sam says, Ramiro smiling goodnaturedly.

“Liam’s entitled to his opinion. It’s wrong, but I can’t account for taste.”

The room laughs at that, Peter included - catching Sam’s eye once more before Ramiro speaks up again.

“I actually got something to share,” he begins, Sam nodding to him encouragingly, “I uh, finally went out on that date I was telling you about.” 

“That’s great, man.” Peter says, Ramiro smiling again as he continues.

“It was. Like, I didn’t expect it to be so good but it was. He’s real funny, nice. Smart too.” Ramiro’s expression shifts slightly, a sadness in them that’s all too familiar with Peter as he says, “Made me think of Kyle.”

The room grows quiet then, Peter bobbing his leg up and down in the same way he always did when people in their group sessions would talk about the dusted - the faintest hint of guilt running in the back of his mind that he knows is misplaced.

It had only been a few months since they found Thanos, a cold front blowing through New York - the leaves changing color as fall started to creep its way around the city. 

For as earth shattering as the revelation had been that Thanos was hidden in plain sight all this time, a part of Peter hadn’t expected for life to continue on in relative normalcy - their long-running group sessions being just one of many things that Peter suspects would be a part of his reality for years to come.

Just as he’d suspected, Fury had transformed Thanos’ capture as a win for the Avengers - some reference to Carol being the first that had appeased most, but not all. 

There were still those who were angry that they wouldn’t receive their own brand of justice - Peter remembering the silent standoff between Quill and the rest of them during their last meeting. 

Peter even heard the complaints from some New Yorkers in the street too on patrol, though as the days and weeks continued to pass by - the realization that everyone who had been in the room when they found out what happened started to settle over the city, over the entire world.

Thanos was found - being dealt with by beings that far out ranked one tiny planet in the galaxy. And their world, though it would never be the same, was on a path towards truly healing from the pain he had caused. 

“I think Kyle would be happy for me,” Ramiro says, bringing Peter out of his thoughts - seeing the sad smile on his face as he continues, “He was always saying he wanted to die first, so he’d never have to live without me.”

Peter watches as Ramiro runs his thumb absentmindedly over his ring finger - noticing them that the wedding ring that had been there before no longer was as he says, “We both thought we’d have more time. But I guess in a weird way, he got what he wanted.”

Ramiro laughs again, rubbing his hands together as Peter watched him intently. “Time’s funny like that you know?”

Peter does know but says nothing - letting Sam take the lead who does so graciously as he says, “It is, man. And you know, it’s okay you know. No matter how much time you need.” He turns to the rest of the group, leaning forward on his knees, “You know when I got back, I didn’t think I’d ever find any kind of normal ever again. I changed too much, lost too much.”

Something passes over Sam’s eyes, the whole room watching as he says, “You never go back to normal. You can’t. You’ve changed too much.” 

He shifts his attention back to the group, a soft smile on his face as he looks at each member. “But that’s okay. You know it, I know it. We all find our own new normal in any way we can. Cause that’s the only constant, you know. Change.”

Sam ends up stopping at Peter, staring at him meaningfully as he says, “You gotta be okay with moving forward.”

* * *

“You got any plans this weekend?” 

Peter smirks at Sam, legs dangling on a building a few blocks from where their group session had been. This was another part of their routine, a way to decompress from the stories that the people of New York shared with them. 

It wasn’t something he was looking forward to today - knowing his spacing out would be the topic of discussion, but Sam thus far had been kind enough to ignore it - or at the very least, to wait for Peter himself to bring it up.

“Yeah, May and I are gonna go to a flea market. She’s moving to be closer to the shelter and she wants to look for some new furniture she doesn’t use anymore.  
Sam smiles at him, nudging him with his elbow. “Doesn’t your aunt know her nephew is essentially the heir to a multi-billionaire dollar corporation?”

Peter grimaces before he smiles, shaking his head as he says, “Don’t remind me. And yeah, she knows but you clearly don’t know May well. Never been one to turn down a good deal.”

“Sounds like a smart woman,” Sam replies, Peter smiling more genuinely as he says, “Yeah, she is.”

“Raised a good man.” 

Peter turns to look at Sam, seeing the knowing expression on his face. “She did her best.”

“I don’t know man,” Sam begins, his voice even if Peter can tell from the cadence of it that he’s debating how to approach their conversation further, “Any man that inherits the kind of money you have and runs the kind of company you do and _isn’t_ drunk with power is alright in my book.”

Peter’s smile falls, the words out of his mouth before he can stop them as he says, “It’s not my company.”

Sam studies him for a moment, a light going off in his eyes before he says, “But it is, Pete.”

“I know, I didn’t--”

“I know what you meant,” Sam says meaningfully, “Erlisha is an excellent COO and I’m glad Pepper had a protege so you could delegate all those things to her and the rest of the board.”

Sam sighs, Peter glancing out over the city as he says, “But it’s _your_ company now, Pete. It’s what Tony would’ve wanted.”

“It’s not what I wanted, Sam. I never wanted any of this,” Peter says, running his hand through his hair before looking over to Sam, “I turned _down_ the Avengers, over and over again. I never…” He gestures vaguely towards the city, closing his eyes when he realizes how he sounds.

“Sorry, I know none of us planned for this to happen.”

“No, but it’s okay to still be upset by it, Pete. It’s okay to wish that life had turned out differently for us.” 

Peter opens his eyes, seeing the faraway expression in his eyes. He and Sam hadn’t talked much about what the fate of Thanos meant for them - aside from Peter knowing that Wanda had more or less sequestered herself at the Compound with no intention of leaving, something that Peter now thinks is ironic considering all the stories Tony used to tell him for what brought him into their dispute in the first place. 

Peter was disappointed and he can tell from Sam’s expression that he is too - even if logically, the two of them knew there was nothing more they could do. 

But it was over in a sense - Wanda had said it best, they had _won_. And now tasked with the full weight of what their reality meant, Peter felt as if he took three steps forward, two steps back. 

“I sometimes wonder,” Sam says, letting out a small huff, “what Steve would do, if the roles were reversed.” 

“Me too,” Peter says, before he amends, “I can’t even think of what Tony would’ve done.”

Sam smiles before bringing a hand to Peter’s shoulders, squeezing it gently with a sad look in his eye as he says, “I don’t think he would’ve been able to handle losing you, Pete.”

“Sam--”

“He thought the world of you, kid. Never shut _up_ about you,” Sam laughs, Peter smiling despite himself, “and he’d be so proud of everything you’ve done.” 

Peter takes a deep breath, letting his shoulders sag on the exhale. “I like to think he would.”

“I know he would,” Sam says again, squeezing his shoulder once more before letting go - bringing his hands into his lap as he says, “and whatever you decide to do with SI going forward…”

“What do you mean?” Peter asks, seeing another knowing smile on Sam’s face. 

“You’re right, kid. This _isn’t_ what you wanted. You’ve done a great job, you gotta know that but,” he tilts his head, “you know Tony wouldn’t be mad if you decided to do something different. Now that… now that everything’s settled.”

Sam doesn’t expand on what he’s saying but Peter understands his meaning all the same - the fact that Thanos had been found solidifying the future in more ways than one. 

When he was still out there - regardless of he and Shuri’s plans - it all felt as the world was in triage mode, still attempting to figure out how to move forward and fix what had been broken. 

Now the whole world felt like it had the chance to catch its breath - even if the work of recovery would be a process that Peter thinks would take a lifetime. 

But it’s a lifetime now that _felt_ like they had one - less like treading water until the next wave and learning more how to float and build a life in the middle of a calming storm. 

Before Peter gets to say anything further, they’re cut off by a loud buzzing - Sam’s phone going off as Peter raises an eyebrow.

“Who’s that?” 

Sam frowns, reaching for it as he glances at the caller ID. “Wanda, I don’t…” He shakes his head before he answers, “This is Sam.”

His expression shifts into something more alert, immediately going to stand as Peter scrambles after him.

“What? What’s going on?” Peter asks, seeing Sam’s slack jawed look as he shakes his head and says into the phone, “Are you sure? I thought… oh fuck, okay I’m on my way. I’m bringing Pete. Call Buck.” 

Sam hangs up the phone, Peter staring at him in confusion. “What happened, Sam? Is she okay? What’s--”

“It’s… shit, you’re not gonna believe this.” Sam says, looking more frazzled than he had even been when they were waiting for Thanos - Peter looking at him expectantly.

“It’s Scott. Scott Lang.” 

Peter shakes his head, the name unfamiliar to him.

“Ant-Man, you know. Big guy from the airport?” Sam says, Peter blinking at him before he says, “Wait, what? Wasn’t he one of the--”

“Yeah, we-- I thought so too.”

Peter feels like someone’s hit him in the chest, staring at Sam as he says, “He’s back.”

* * *

“Explain it to me again,” Bucky says, the whole room filled with the same kind of tension that Peter felt just a few months ago, watching Scott Lang pace back and forth. 

“Have any of you ever studied quantum physics?”

“Sure, doesn’t everyone?” Sam deadpans, Bucky shooting him a look as Scott wrings his hands together, pointing towards them. 

“So… three years ago, before everything. Before… Thanos, I was in a place called the quantum realm. The quantum realm is like its own microscopic universe. Hope she’s my, she was my,” Scott seems to stutter with his words, eyes shifting between Peter, Bucky, Sam and Wanda before saying, “she was supposed to pull me out. And then Thanos happened and I got stuck in there.”

“Must’ve been a long three years.” Wanda says morosely, Peter’s fingers lightly tapping against the table as Scott shakes his head - looking determined. 

“But that’s just it. For me, it was three hours. See the rules of the quantum realm are unpredictable. Time works differently in the quantum realm.” 

“What does have to do with--” Bucky begins, but Scott seems to be on a roll now, Peter sharing a look with Sam as Scott says, “What if we could somehow control the chaos and we _could_ navigate it? What if there was a way we could enter the quantum realm at a certain point at time. Like… before Thanos.”

“Wait, like a time machine?” Bucky asks, the pit that had been growing in Peter’s stomach since he’d first heard the news that Scott Lang - one of the vanished, long dead and gone - had suddenly appeared growing as Scott shakes his head. 

“No, not a time machine. More like,” he tilts his head, “okay yeah, like a time machine. But I can’t stop thinking about it. There’s gotta be someway to… to change this.”

“Scott, we’ve-- I mean what you’re talking about is crazy.” Sam says, Peter’s heart hammering so loudly that he’s sure the whole room can hear it.

“I know, I know, I know. I can’t even imagine what it’s been like for all of you, but if there’s a chance. If there’s a way then shouldn’t we--”

“We did what we could,” Bucky says, Peter glancing up only to see Wanda’s eyes steadily trained on him, a flash of red as Bucky continues, “We got the son of bitch now and he’s in some space jail or whatever. It’s over, Scott. I’m sorry you’re just now--”

“Peter.” Wanda’s voice cuts through everything else, Peter staring at her - his mind inexplicably feeling like it’s been rummaged through only to remember Wanda’s powers as she says, “You know what he’s speaking of.”

“Wanda--”

“Why didn’t you say anything?” She says, Peter’s senses flaring for a beat as there’s another flash of red in her eyes, “You-- and Shuri--”

“Wanda--” Sam begins, Peter seeing out of the corner of his eye as he brings his hands up. 

“Explain.” She says, still looking at Peter - feeling as if she was staring right through him. 

Peter takes a shaky breath, the impossible dream that he’d given up now coming roaring back to life - Scott’s presence a very clear and real indication that he and Shuri hadn’t been wrong after all. 

“I will,” Peter says, tearing his eyes away from Wanda to look at Scott before finally settling on Sam, “But we're gonna need everyone for this."

* * *

“I gotta tell you, Parker,” Fury begins, Peter feeling the entire room staring at him as he says, “Of all the bullshit I’ve heard you say in the years I’ve known you, this is right up there with the best of it.”

“Nick--” Carol begins, only for Fury to bring his hand up.

“Can’t say I didn’t know what you and the princess were working on,” he says, glancing at T’Challa’s hologram who shoots him a knowing glance, “But we didn’t know how _long_ you two had taken up with it.”

“We stopped, right when Thanos was caught. We never figured out the mechanism for how it could work,” Peter starts to explain, “We didn’t want to tell anyone and get their hopes up.”

“Yeah and it’s fucking impossible,” Quill says, sounding less angry at Peter and more surly at the idea that they were all brought together, his hologram nodding towards Scott, “why are we supposed to trust this dude to begin with?”

“I got my van, I can prove--” Scott begins but Fury interrupts him once more as he says, “I know your credentials, Lang. You don’t have to prove anything to anybody, much less a wannabe space cowboy with anger problems.”

Quill glares at Fury as he continues, “What I want to know now is, with this new information, is it possible?”

“Huh?” Peter asks, glancing at Shuri who for the entire conversation had been uncharacteristally silent. 

“With this quantum realm business and with whatever you and Shuri had been working on… is it possible?”

“You can’t be serious,” Sam says, Fury putting another hand up as he stares straight at Peter.

“I… I don’t know,” Peter answers honestly, shaking his head, “We never figured it out. The simulation never worked.”

“But it can.” Shuri finally speaks, the whole room turning to her as Peter watches as her hologram shifts.

“Shuri, what are you--”

“The quantum realm is a place between space and time,” she begins, fingers tapping on what Peter can only imagine is a computer screen, “if your algorithm is shifted, Peter you mentioned inverting it the last time we spoke…” She trails off, Peter instinctively forward.

“You think if we--”

She nods, fingers typing furiously before her hands motion for something that’s not in the room - her own hologram shifting once more to give life to whatever it is she’s working on as she says, “If we invert into the shape of a mobius strip, giving the eigenvalue of this particle… factoring in spectral decomp then…” She trails off again, the simulation on her end computing until T’Challa gasps beside her, Shuri’s eyes widening.

“What? What happened?” Sam asks, the whole room now feeling they were holding their breath. 

“It’s-- the model is--” Shuri stutters, something Peter’s never heard her do before until T’Challa speaks, his own voice shaking as he says, “It’s 99.9% successful.”

Peter inhales sharply, feeling the tension in the room until Quill speaks, breaking the silence. 

“Fuck.”

* * *

Peter wrings his hands together on the couch, staring at the two of them.

The whole room had erupted into chaos after Shuri’s revelation - Fury calling for an order that Peter knows wouldn’t come. 

This was it - the very thing that he and Shuri had been working for, for nearly three years - only to have come at the worst time possible. 

“We can’t do this to people, Nick,” Carol had argued, “We can’t tell them that justice is being served when--”

“We have a chance to bring everyone _back_ ,” Quill fired back, the yells and the shouts as the room divided up against it. Sam had finally intervened, arguing that they take a few days to cool down - the realization that for as world-changing as this new development was, that they all needed time to think about what they were going to do. 

But even when he’d said it, Peter could see that for Sam - there was no choice, a mixture of hurt and betrayal that Peter had worked so hard for so long to change everything around him without letting him in. 

Peter couldn’t bring himself to feel guilty about that and knew Sam didn’t intend it as such - not when the possibility of changing the snap from happening in the first place had been a far off dream for the longest time. 

But now, sitting on May’s couch in her apartment - staring at May and Michelle as his leg bounced up and down, he’s confronted with the terrible choice in front of him. 

It was clear even then that the few days that they needed to cool down had nothing to do with what they were going to do and everything with when - Peter getting the sense that Sam, Fury and Wanda among others had already decided what was going to be done. 

Peter is torn, wringing his hands together as he stares at May and Michelle - a multitude of emotions running through him, things that he’d barely thought he’d settled and now were completely thrown up in the air. 

The act of letting go of his pipe dream had felt final, he’d tried so hard to make it so only now for the universe once again to give him another chance - even if a part of him wondered if maybe he was just pushing his luck.

Parker luck had never been particularly kind to him, in any way, shape or form. And for as much as Peter was thrilled at the possibility that he could finally do something to bring everyone back - it didn’t change the reality of what could happen and of what he would be leaving behind.

May is the first to speak, clearing her throat before saying, “Will you be safe?”

“May--” She puts a hand up, eyes firmly on Peter before saying, “I know that’s an impossible question, I-- I just mean, will this harm you? Traveling?” 

Peter shakes his head. “I don’t-- I don’t know. I don’t think so. We haven’t exactly talked out all the mechanics yet or when we’d go but--”

“But you want to go?” Michelle asks, Peter’s leg bobbing up and down as he glances to her. 

On some level, Peter wonders if this is too much of a burden to tell her - their friendship being one of the most important in his life, in a way so different from May and yet still held so closely. He knew that if he did this, he couldn’t run off without telling her - even if rationally, Peter couldn’t explain the reason behind it. 

“I don’t know.” He answers honestly, eyes flitting between May and Michelle. He swallows down something in his throat before saying, “But I know that whatever happens, I can’t--” He shakes his head, “I can’t do it without telling you guys.”

“It sounds like you’re decided.” May says evenly, Peter wincing as he says, “May--”

“Peter, I’ve made my peace with that sense of responsibility of yours, one that you never should’ve had to bear,” she begins, staring at Peter with the faintest smile on her face, “But I have to know. Will you be okay? Can you promise you’ll come back to me?” 

Peter’s hands shake slightly, knowing he can’t promise that - not when there were too many variables to consider and too many ways it could go wrong. 

It was a risk, even the idea of it - no matter what Shuri’s model said, not just to their lives but to the reality that they had now - a sharp rush of fear of what could happen if they changed the snap, if they changed everything. 

In one sense, it would be worth it - billions of people would be returned back to life, the thought of being reunited with Tony blossoming up a hope in his chest that Peter didn’t think he’d ever feel again.

But then he glances towards Michelle, another tug in his heart at what destroying this reality would mean - seeing from the look in her eyes that she seemed to understand what this could spell for the two of them just as much as Peter did.

They were friends, best friends Peter knew that. But whatever nebulous thing was between them, something that the few months after Thanos hadn't really clarified, Peter knew that if he did this and they succeeded - there was every chance that the last three years of their lives together would never have happened.

Lives that even filled with so much death and hurt and grief, had found a small sense of happiness. 

In the scheme of everything, Peter couldn't reconcile the possibility of letting everyone else he loved stay gone. 

But it hit him then, that in whatever way - he loved Michelle too. 

“I don’t know, May.” Peter answers again, still staring at Michelle. “I don’t know.”

“You should do it.” Michelle finally says, Peter’s eyebrows raising in shock as she continues, “I know you, Pete. This-- this is what you’ve been wanting for years.”

“MJ--”

“Would you ever forgive yourself if you didn’t do this?” She asks, seeing May stare at him too out of the corner of his eye. 

Michelle knows the answer as she asks it - just as Peter and May must seem to, seeing May’s shoulders sag as it settles over the three of them.

There were still dozens of things they had to figure out - how they were going to this, where to go and what would happen - but Peter knew what May and Michelle were saying is true. 

He’d made up his mind from the moment that he’d seen Scott Lang in the flesh - a truth and a hope that his wildest dream could finally come true.

He didn’t want to risk this life, didn’t want to risk everything he had built with May and Michelle.

But Peter wouldn’t be able to live with himself now - knowing what he did - if he let this go, if he didn’t take one more shot when the universe had given him the chance. 

He sighed, pressing his lips together as he stared at Michelle - seeing the understanding in her eyes as something shifted in her expression. 

She knew it just as well as he did. 

Peter was going to go. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You all: omg they're settled? no peter don't do it!  
> Me, knowing what was coming in this chapter: HAH. you thought ;)
> 
> This is the part of the story I've been waiting to get to since the moment I started writing it and now it's here and I can hardly believe it. 
> 
> Hold on to your hats, kids. We're _really_ in the Endgame now.


	11. Whatever It Takes.

Peter wrung his hands together once more, waiting for the ship to arrive - his legs bobbing up and down. 

It had been T’Challa’s idea for the Wakandan transport from Los Angeles to take them to Wakanda for their trip - the arguments that Fury had about keeping whatever they planned to do at the compound falling on ears that refused to hear it.

For as much as Fury had contended that anything should be done on American soil, Peter agreed with T’Challa - it had been in Wakanda that Thanos had enacted his plan that wrecked the universe.

It was only right that it be in Wakanda that earth’s heroes plan to upend it. 

“You okay, man?” Peter hears Quill ask, bringing him out of his thoughts as he smiles.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m good. Never really liked flying,” he says with a small laugh, “nothing good ever came of it for me.”

Quill grins going to say something only to be cut off by the ship’s arrival - Peter watching in awe as it landed on the compound’s front courtyard.

The reminder of what they were doing crashes over Peter, both of them standing before casting side glances to each other - nodding once before Quill goes to presumably grab whatever things he needs, Peter walking out the room they were in and towards the main lobby.

He’d just needed a moment himself to think, even if he didn’t say as much to Quill when he walked in. Sam was usually the one who came to find him during those moments but Peter could sense that he was still slightly hurt, knowing that Sam wasn’t one to hold a grudge but needed time to let it go.

Time - Peter thought - being something that suddenly felt like a more malleable concept.

The few days they took as a “break” had been anything but for Shuri and T’Challa, rightfully guessing that her team in Wakanda had been brainstorming what they would need to do now that they had the _how_ figured out. 

The plan was simple enough: divide up into teams, grab the stones in the past, bring everyone back.

As Michelle walks in from another room, May right beside her - the churning feeling in his gut returned at the idea of how terrible everything could unfold, even if they were successful.

“Peter, is it—“ May asks, Peter nodding furiously at the two of them before turning his full attention to May.

She immediately straightens her shoulders, putting on the look that he’d seen so many times before in his life - a brace face when he knew she felt anything but as she wrapped her arms around him, enveloping him into a hug.

He returned it, closing his eyes as he burrowed his head into her neck - willing for anyone in the universe to listen to his pleas that he wouldn’t be yet another Parker to leave May behind.

“You be safe, Peter. You hear me? Be safe and you come back in one piece. Promise me.”

“I promise, May,” his voice his muffled as he says it, her grip tight on him before squeezing once more - letting him out of the hug so that Peter can see her face, immediately recognizing that she knows just as well as he did it’s a promise he can’t guarantee.

“My brave boy,” May says, her voice sounding watery as she brings a hand to his face, “you’ve always gone above and beyond.”

“I love you, May,” Peter replies, the only thing he trust himself to say without crying even as his voice shakes - May hugging him again before loosening her grip, turning to Michelle.

She’s staring at him with the kind of unreadable expression she used to have all the time in high school, Peter wishing more than ever than mind reading had been one his powers before she bites her lip. 

They’d never really had the chance to clarify what they were, if it needed any kind of clarification to begin with - Peter’s fingers flexing at the memory of what holding her hand that day had felt the day Thanos had been found.

Life had resumed its new normal since then, though with the most subtle of changes - his hand lingering on her back as he passed her in the kitchen, her hand resting on his arm a beat too long as she told a story about her day. 

It was so unbearably _high school_ that it almost made Peter laugh - casual flirting that felt anything but because of the history between them.

But now Peter was leaving - quite literally reliving history in a once in a lifetime mission that if successful, could obliterate the world they’d created.

It’d been a source of contention - what they would do when they returned with the stones, if they would reverse the snap entirely or just bring everyone forward. Carol still went back and forth with Fury, Peter getting the sense that for all her communication with intergalactic courts and space beings that this was a mission she hadn’t shared.

For all her years in space, it seemed Carol still had loyalty to the place she was born.

That uncertainty of what would happen just reminded him of what this mission meant for him and Michelle, the nascent relationship they had seemingly paleing in significance in the scheme of resurrecting trillions of lives.

He felt guilty, even thinking of comparing the two - but couldn’t help it, wondering if that had been the reason Michelle had been so adamant about him going in the first place.

And now here they were - staring at each other, a ship taking him off to the riskiest thing Peter’s ever done - a storm of emotions in his heart and a thousand things he wants to say but finds that he can’t.

He can’t promise her anything, not when there wasn’t anything to promise - recognizing that while he loved her, that love wasn’t something he could fully put a name to - a love that felt more like it was built between them from the years they’d spent together rather than any kind of romantic notion swimming in his mind.

Michelle beats him to it, smiling quickly before rushing up to hug him - Peter freezing for a beat before wrapping his arms tight around her, closing his eyes once more.

Neither say a word and yet it feels right - communicating everything they can’t say as she squeezes her arms around his neck, as Peter rests his hands along her waist.

They hold each other for a moment and then let go, a pang running through Peter’s chest at the symbolism of that - chasing it away as she says, “Go get em, tiger.”

Peter laughs, feeling the tickle in his throat as he says, “Midtown pride huh?”

“You know it,” she says, Peter seeing them way she clenches her teeth, eyes searching his face as Peter presses his lips together.

In an instant he wants to tell her everything he’s thinking, wants to talk to her for hours about what her presence in his life meant to him - like a lightning rod when the world around him had felt dark and cold.

But as with anything in his life, he’s cut short, hearing Sam’s voice call out, “Hey Pete, you ready?”

He turns to Sam, seeing the grim expression on his face before nodding, “Yeah,” he glances to May and Michelle, holding back tears as he says, “I’m ready.”

* * *

“So was that your girl?” Quill asks as he comes to sit beside Peter, Peter shaking his head with a smile.

“She’s not my girl, she’s a friend. My best friend.” He says, biting his lip when he realizes that if this mission was successful - _God_ , does he hope it is - that Ned would be back in his life again, something that he didn’t think he’d ever have again.

“Yeah, sure _looked_ like a best friend,” Quill says with a snort, nudging him with his elbow, “you asked her out yet?”

“ _No,_ Quill,” Peter says, rolling his eyes.

“You should. Life’s short, Pete,” Quill says, his body language tensing slightly as Peter turns to look at him.

He understood Quill now, a lot more than he had when he’d met him - remembering the reason why they’d lost the first time, at Quill’s outrage over a loss that Peter now knew was someone he loved.

Whoever she was, Quill clearly had her on his mind, getting a faraway look on his face as he says, “You can’t waste it, you know. Any minute you got, just gotta,” he snaps his fingers, “go for it.”

He smiles, Peter seeing the way it doesn’t meet his eyes as he says, “But you know that already. Don’t need a ‘space cowboy with anger issues’ telling you what to do’”, he pantomimes, Peter smiling back at him.

“You know Fury didn’t mean that.”

“No,” Quill says, “I think he did. And he’s right but whatever, I’m not gonna let _him_ know that.” He smirks, nudging Peter once more as he says, “But I mean it. When we get back, finish all of this shit, you should ask her out.”

Peter swallows something down in his throat, nodding as he says, “Yeah, I’ll uh, I’ll think about it.”

“That’s your problem, man,” Quill says as he goes to stand, groaning as he does, “you think too much.”

“And you don’t think enough,” Peter quips, Quill laughing at him before playfully shooting the finger.

He brings his hand down and smiles, walking off to another part of the ship - no doubt feeling like he’d accomplished whatever it is that he set out to do.

It hits Peter how different things were between the two of them even if they were back in a situation similar to what their lives had been over three years ago - jetting off on a ship together to face the unknown.

There was more at stake this time, even more of a risk.

Peter wrung his hands together, mulling over Quill’s words.

He was right, life was short.

And if all of this went according to plan, there were some risks that Peter had to be willing to take. 

* * *

Peter held his breath, closed his eyes - then leaped.

It felt wrong and yet so _right_ , hearing Scott Lang’s chatter in his ear as he swung through the air, his senses humming in the background as the Chitauri roared all around him.

“ _Tic tac, I’m gonna need you to shut up and focus,”_ Peter hears Sam say through their comms, Scott’s apologies quickly following.

_“Yeah, sorry. Sorry man I ramble when I’m nervous and if this doesn’t work—“_

“It’s gonna work,” Peter says, landing on the balcony of where the Avengers would be right around this time - glad more than ever that he’d been an obsessive fanboy growing up, knowing an embarrassing amount of information about the Battle of New York and how the Avengers had won.

Whatever parts of his knowledge failed, FRIDAY filled in the gaps - working with Shuri and the team to figure out who should go where.

“ _On your six._ ” Sam whispers, Peter hearing the soft landing behind him as he crouches forward - nodding to Sam towards the open panel.

Sam takes the cue, crouching over to where the Avengers were supposed to be as he temporarily disabled Jarvis - not wanting anything to interfere with the mission before them.

Their simple plan now felt anything but - Peter trying to swallow down his panic at the variety of ways it could all go wrong.

Shuri and T’Challa had opted to go to Asgard, a diplomatic decision considering they were the only royals among them - best suited to negotiate with gods. 

Bucky and Groot to go after the power stone, Quill and Carol after the soul stone and the rest - Sam, Peter, Scott and Wanda in New York for mind, reality and time - Peter hoping Wanda’s mystical powers would be enough to convince whoever held the time stone to hand it over. 

There were too many moving parts, too many people where they shouldn’t be - Peter wondering if his own swing through New York would be enough to change the future they’d left behind.

But that was the risk they all had to take - Peter hoping that his own convoluted understanding of time travel wouldn’t cause him any further panic.

“ _You good, Pete?_ ” He hears Sam whisper before nodding, couching down on the ground before whispering back, “You ready for this?”

“Ready as I’ll ever be. I need to somehow convince a Hydra agent pretending to be one of the good guys to hand over one of the most powerful stones in existence.”

“I trust you,” Peter whispers back with a smile, Sam going to say something before Peter pauses - Sam following his line of his vision.

His heart feels like it’s leapt up to his throat, sharply inhaling when he sees him - all swagger and bravado and younger than Peter’s ever seen up close.

At the age he was in this point of the timeline, in Peter’s wildest dreams, he would’ve never thought that he would’ve known Tony Stark personally - staving down the urge to run up make sure he’s real, telling himself that this wasn’t _his_ Tony even if it was - just years before they would actually meet.

“Alright, who wants drinks?” He hears him say, the rest of the Avengers milling about - Peter’s focus being solely on Tony.

He never forgot about him, the remnants of him all around Peter in his office at SI and in the work that he did as Spider-Man - knowing the world mourned him too even if they didn’t know him nearly as well as Peter did. 

It hurt now to see him and not say anything - the years Tony has been gone doing nothing to quell Peter’s terror at seeing a man he loved as a father disappear in front of his eyes. 

Sam puts a hand to his shoulder, the action quiet and gentle enough to wrench him out of his thoughts - sharing a glance with him and realizing that for Sam, he was experiencing the same thing - Steve joking with Tony about something in the background.

Whatever hurt or betrayal Sam may have felt was gone, a deep understanding in his eyes at how impossible this plan really had been and now that they were living it - how unreal it still felt.

Peter nods once, Sam bringing his hand down with a determined look on his face before he whispers, “You ready tic tac?”

“Born ready. Let’s do this.”

Peter takes a deep breath, turning his attention back to Tony once more before whispering, “Let’s bring them home.”

* * *

The surge through time the second time around throws Peter for a loop, one minute staring into Sam, Scott and Wanda’s eyes and the next returning right back to where they had started - the vibranium tech around then almost shimmering as he lets out a breath.

“Did we do it? Did we get them all?” He hears Bucky ask, the suits that Shuri made for them collapsing as Scott lets out a laugh.

“I can’t believe it worked.”

There’s a brief moment of relief that Peter feels, the tightness in his chest relaxing for a moment before he hears the sound of someone falling to their knees - turning to see Carol looking shaken, her eyes red and her lips press firmly together.

The whole room goes silent, Peter glancing around the room as the sinking feeling in his stomach returns in full force - counting those of them who were there and comparing it to those who had left.

Peter shakes his head, blinking a few times - asking the question before anyone else can. 

“Carol… where’s Quill?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Told myself I was gonna wait till Wednesday for this chapter but I’ve been sitting on the last chapters since January (literally pre-wrote parts of this chapter and the next one months ago) and I can’t wait anymore.
> 
> ... <3


	12. The Real Hero.

“It should’ve been me,” Carol says through gritted teeth, Peter staring at the ground in front of them as she continues, “He fucking— distracted me, the little shit. The _one_ time in his life he got one over on me—“ she cuts herself off, Peter glancing up to see the tears in her eyes, his own vision blurring as Sam speaks.

“Did he— did he have any family?”

“I am Groot,” Groot responds, Carol quickly wiping at her eyes as she says, “yeah, we’re it.”

The room falls into a thick silence again, Peter’s mind and body feeling numb.

They’d done it - they had the stones, Shuri and T’Challa working together to fit them into the vibranium gauntlet. 

Peter had known that whoever Quill had lost, he’d lost on Vormir - the same planet he’d been hell bent on going to when the teams were being decided, their own knowledge of where the stones were being a mix of Wakandan research and testimony from Thanos. 

He could still hear Quill’s laughter in his ear before they’d made the jump, some crude joke that Peter hadn’t heard the punchline for and now realized - he never would.

“He knew what he was risking,” Wanda says, “he was willing to die for our cause.”

“He shouldn’t have had to,” Carol says fiercely, taking a step forward only for Wanda to stand straighter as she said, “But he did.”

Wanda stares into Carol’s eyes, Peter seeing the quiet determination in them as she says, “and he knew just like the rest of us that when we got the stones, only you would be strong enough to wield them.”

Carol’s face crumbles at that for a moment before she presses her lips together, the mood shifting at the bluntness and yet the truth of Wanda’s words.

She was right - Carol was the only among them who was undeniably strong enough to handle it, even if Peter wondered if either he or Wanda would possibly be able to try - even T’Challa considering the wonders of Wakandan tech. 

But it didn’t matter now. Quill was dead, sacrificed himself for something that none of them were even completely sure would work - though now Peter could only hope that it would be. 

They don’t get the chance to debate it any further, Shuri and T’Challa walking into the room with grim looks on their faces. 

“It’s complete,” she says, quiet and determined - Peter wondering how she could be so composed when he felt like he was hurtling off the edge, trying to swallow down the grief he feels. 

Rationally, they have all the time in the world - they have the stones, have them put together. A part of Peter wants to just take a minute to relax, to give them all space to allow this loss to even begin to settle. 

He thinks of Quill’s last meaningful words to him, the reminder that life was short - thinking that if he’d died for the chance to make the world right again, that they couldn’t allow themselves to dishonor the sacrifice he’d made - that if the roles were reversed, Quill would push forward and want them to see it through. 

Peter stands, Shuri meeting his eyes as he says, “We’re ready.”

* * *

“So, how we doing this?” Carol asks, standing in the center of the room with the gauntlet in her hand, her voice low and almost monotone. 

“Bring everyone back,” T’Challa says, “bring them here, now.”

“We could undo it, erase it all.” Wanda says, her voice barely above a whisper, Sam shaking his head as he says, “We risk messing up a hell of a lot more if we try that.”

He turns to Carol, nodding once before saying, “Bring them here, don’t change anything else.”

Carol’s eyes flick to Peter, taking a deep breath as she closes her eyes, slipping her hand into the gauntlet.

Her entire being starts to glow, a ripple effect of whatever powers she possesses and the effect of the stones, all of them watching in awe as she winces.

“You good?” Bucky asks, Carol nodding before raising her hand, letting out a sharp cry.

Time moves in slow-motion, Peter holding his breath as she moves her fingers, holding the gauntlet in place with her arm, and snaps.

She lets out a pained cry, Peter’s senses instantly screaming around him as she gauntlet falls off her hand - T’Challa and Sam rushing forward as she says, “I’m fine, I’m fine.”

“You don’t look fine,” Sam says as Carol winces again, whatever the gauntlet had done clearly sapping some of her energy as they go to help her up - Carol saving them away, “Wait, gimme— gimme a sec.”

“Did it work?” Bucky asks, Shuri letting out a whoop as Peter turns.

There are two people in the lab who hadn’t been there before, Peter feeling a rush of air leave his lungs even if they all looked completely bewildered by their appearance.

“It worked! It actually worked!” She yells out, Peter looking for her and seeing the amazed expression on her face, shaking his head in disbelief.

“Steve.” Bucky whispers, rushing out of the room as Groot follows - Sam still right by Carol’s side even if Peter knows his instinct would be to find his friends too.

Tony is off in space, he can only hope that Dr. Strange knew what he was doing and could bring them back safely.

But his senses are still flaring, an alarm blaring out overhead that makes T’Challa’s shoulder tense.

Peter shares a quick glance with Wanda before asking, “What’s that?”

Whatever T’Challa has to say, Peter doesn’t hear it - the world around him suddenly exploding - throwing him into darkness.

* * *

Ash. 

No, not ash - dust.

Peter coughs, hearing the water all around him and the strain of metal and whatever else above him as he coughs.

“Peter? You still with me?” Peter opens his eyes, testing out his fingers and toes and finding that they move without issue - turning his head to see Sam struggling to move some kind of machinery that had landed on his leg. 

Peter goes to stand, glad that whatever pocket of air that they had being seemingly secure enough - though his senses still blared in the background, lifting off the machinery with ease as he helps Sam up.

“You good?” He asks, Sam nodding as he tests his weight on his leg. 

“Yeah, what the hell happened?” 

The whole ground begins to shake, Peter immediately going into a protective stance as the blocks around them shift - seeing Carol’s glowing form immediately as she calls out, “Is everyone okay?”

“What happened?” Peter asks, only to see something hovering in the sky - an alien ship that reminds Peter so much of what they’d just seen in New York. 

Carol’s expression is grim, shaking her head. 

“It’s Thanos.”

“Thanos?” Sam asks, Peter’s senses beginning to scream at him as they scramble out from where they are, “How the hell is he--”

“I don’t know,” Carol says, shaking her head, “It doesn’t make sense.” She helps both Peter and Sam out, Peter taking in their surroundings. 

The Wakandan lab they are in is completely destroyed, Peter already seeing Wakandans scramble together - hearing their shouts as he looks around and asks, “Where is everyone?”

Carol presses her lips together, “I don’t know, I’m trying to get everyone out but--”

She’s cut off by another blast a few hundred feet away from then, turning to it as they see some of Thanos’ armies in the distance - starting to make their advance. 

“We’ve got bigger problems.”

* * *

It occurs to Peter, as he avoids yet another shot from whatever tech that Thanos’ army has - that he hasn’t had a really good fight in years. 

So much of Spider-Manning in the years after the snap had been so focused on petty theft and crime, on rebuilding efforts and keeping the world united. It was a miracle really, that some kind of villain hadn’t completely taken advantage of the power vacuum left behind in the Avengers wake - the city and the world feeling too broken to even consider taking over.

Yet it comes back to Peter like riding a bike, a terrible analogy since Peter hadn’t ridden a bike in over a decade - swinging away and landing a punch to one alien dog looking thing as another roars at him.

“How you holding up, Pete?” He hears T’Challa say through the comms, using one of the aliens flying about to land a web, swinging to the ground and pulling down hard. 

“Just fine, Your Highness. Hey, any chance the Dora Milaje have some kind of magic to wave all of this away?”

“They don’t deal in _magic_ , Peter,” he hears Shuri say, his senses still ringing as the fight continues, dodging another hit as she says, “they deal in science.”

“Yeah science, okay well we gotta science the shit out of this.” He hears Scott say, watching in mild amazement as Scott becomes massive - towering above them all. 

The fight had started without warning or prelude, Peter, Sam, Carol and the others jumping into action. But there’s something nudging in the back of Peter’s mind, wondering how the hell Thanos had found them in the first place.

He knew that if you messed with time, that it messed with you back - wondering if this was some kind of past or alternate Thanos, if he’d somehow gotten wind of what they were doing during the mission that Scott had called a ‘time heist’. 

But something else nudges at Peter as he shoots off taser webs and web bombs, glancing around frantically for something he hadn’t realized he’d been missing. 

They’d brought people back - he knew it, the reappearance of surprised lab techs being proof enough. The crackle of lightning had been a moment of exhilaration when Peter realized that Thor was back, the original Avengers rushing to the makeshift battlefield in an instant - Peter seeing a glimpse of Steve and Bruce Banner in what looked like a massive Iron Man suit fighting in tandem together. 

They had been successful, Peter could see it with his own eyes - even if there hadn’t been time for a proper reunion, Thanos and his armies rushing forward. 

Yet there was only one question remaining for Peter as he dodged another blast, his mind racing as he wondered if maybe Carol had missed someone.

_Where’s Tony?_

Peter doesn’t get a lot of time to dwell on it, not with everything coming against him - the Wakandan armies doing their best to fight back the droves that are swarming around them.

Peter’s senses flare again, glancing upwards as Carol flies above them - swarming through the ship as Thanos barrels forward. 

Wanda flies in between them, Peter glancing around till he sees Sam flying, yelling out, “Sam, where’s the gauntlet?”

“Somewhere in all this shit,” he says, doing a barrel roll as Peter sends a web out - using his movement as a pendulum to swing him around, “We need to keep it away from him. I don’t know what this Thanos knows but--”

“We can’t risk it,” Peter hears Bucky say through their comms, Peter landing into an open clearing as Groot sends his arm through some of the aliens they’re fighting against. 

“Where’s--” Peter goes to say only to pause, a shimmering glow of a light all around him - his heart skipping a beat as his eyes widen.

It’s a sight he hasn’t seen in three years, something he wasn’t sure he’d ever see again - the sounds of the fight all around them starting to fade as the glowing ring grows wider - one portal giving off to multiple as they start opening up all around the field, Peter’s eyes focused on the one in front of him.

He sees Strange first, his hands moving in some kind of circular motion - the blue woman he now knew as Nebula coming into focus, along with the alien looking woman and a man with scars, hands enclosed around swords.

But Peter’s focus is on the one - seeing Tony stumble forward, looking just as he did in the moments before he’d turned into ash, his hand still clutched to his side as his eyes search around the field, looking to Peter with a wide eyed expression as he says, “Pete?”

Peter immediately rushes forward, sending off another web bomb as those from Titan fall into the fight, skidding to stop as he braces his hands on Tony’s shoulders.

“You’re-- you’re here. You’re _hurt_ ,” Peter says, his eyes dancing around Tony’s side, cursing the fact that he’d forgotten that Tony had been injured during their fight on Titan - even if there was an overwhelming sense of relief in the reality of seeing him once again, Tony’s voice bringing him out of his thoughts. 

“Kid, you’re-- what happened? I was just--”

“You were gone,” Peter says, swallowing down the choked feeling in his throat as his eyes water, “But you’re back, you’re here.”

Peter brings Tony into a hug, Tony’s free arm wrapping around him tightly - Peter being careful to avoid his wound as Tony whispers, “Yeah kid, I’m here.” 

It’s everything that Peter had wanted for years, overwhelmed with the reality that Tony was alive - flesh and blood before the sounds of the fight around them start to swell, reminding Peter that they were in a middle of a battlefield and that Tony - one hand still firmly pressed on his side - was injured.

“We gotta get you out of here, we gotta--” Peter goes to say, Tony’s expression turning hard as he says, “Pete, if you think for one second I’m going to let you fight on your own then--”

“I won’t lose you again,” Peter says sharply, Tony looking back at him in surprise as Peter’s pauses, going to apologize when Tony asks, “How long?”

“Three years,” Peter rasps, swallowing again when he says, “And we’ll talk all about it later but now,” he narrows his eyes, “we have to get you out of here.”

“He’s right, Stark,” he hears Strange say, both of them turning to see him - an unreadable expression on Strange’s face as he says, “You’re in no condition to fight.”

“Like hell I--” Tony tries to say, only for Sam’s voice to cut through the comms.

“He’s going for the gauntlet.”

He sees Carol fly ahead, following her path to see her land a punch against Thanos - seeing the gauntlet discarded off to the side, rushing forward to grab it only for Tony to hold on to his arm, his grip on Peter tightening.

“Kid, what are you gonna do?”

Peter doesn’t answer only to glance at Strange - the expression on his face stirring something in his gut, the memory of when he’d last seen that look - three years ago on an alien planet where they’d lost everything. 

It’s a buzzing in the back of his mind, a deep and unexplainable truth that Peter thinks he’s known all along - tearing his eyes away from Strange before looking at Tony, feeling his eyes water as he says to Strange, “Keep him safe.” 

“Peter!” Tony yells out, only for Peter to wrench himself out of Tony’s arms - hating himself for doing it but knowing he has to, running forward towards the gauntlet, seeing Thanos and Carol go at it.

“Peter, what are you doing?” He hears Sam yell through the comms, propelling himself into the air with a swing, turning half in the air to avoid getting hit by another blast - kicking off an alien dog as he reaches for it. 

Carol and Thanos are in lockstep with each other, fighting each other until he sees Peter within feet of the gauntlet, tussling with her for a moment as she wrenches him backward - giving Peter the chance he needs to grab it, a million things passing through him in a second. 

Peter thinks of everything that had led them to this point - the hurt, the despair, the overwhelming agony of defeat he’d felt in the immediate aftermath of their loss. 

He locks eyes with Thanos, seeing the shocked expression on his face as Peter slips his hands seamlessly into the gauntlet - feeling the power surge through him.

The pain is so blinding that Peter grits his teeth, forcing himself to hold Thanos’ gaze as Carol wrestles him into a headlock, staring down the Titan that had destroyed half the universe.

Peter can hear Tony yelling in the distance, the cries of the others mixing all around as the cosmos open up to him, Peter seeing stars and galaxies and worlds unknown as his hand shakes. 

It’s unlike anything he’s ever felt, unlike even what the bite had been - the surge feeling like ice in his veins, burning as it crawls up his arm, his chest and his neck. 

Peter wills for himself to keep his eyes open, refusing to back down - staring at Thanos even as everything in him screams in pain. 

He thinks of everything they had already lost - the three years, the billions whose lives were thrown into chaos after the universe was split in half, of Quill - the ache of everything and the intensity of the stones causing his hands to shake.

He thinks of May’s smile, of Michelle’s laugh, of all the wonderful and terrible things he’s seen and experienced - the world they’d all built together in the aftermath of devastating loss, brief moments of light that grew brighter and brighter despite the impossibility of it all. 

Peter stares at Thanos with an arm extended - thinking that everything he’d been through had led him exactly to this moment - Strange’s declaration from all those years ago coming back to him in sudden clarity - the look on his face just moments before speaking the truth that Peter had carried with him all these years. 

All the hurt, all the pain and sleepless nights.

All the challenges they’d faced, the struggle and the pain - all leading up to this one moment in time, the one chance Peter had to end it - once and for all. 

This was what he was made for, as if he had been saved just for this moment - hearing Strange’s words in his mind one final time. 

_There was no other way._

He hears Tony cry out again, Peter’s focus steadfastly on Thanos before him - willing himself to stand strong even till the end, feeling the expanse of the universe for one brief second. 

Peter blinks, lifts the gauntlet encased around his hand. 

And snaps. 


	13. Destiny Fulfilled.

_“Peter._ ”

He’s weightless, everywhere and nowhere all at once. 

_“Peter, look at me. Look at me, kid.”_

He’d seen it, for a brief and brilliant second - the entirety of the cosmos - the expanse of everything that had ever been and ever would be just within his grasp, closing his eyes at the last second when he snapped his fingers, willing for the universe to listen to his request.

_“Peter, open your eyes. Please—“_

It must have, the whole world growing quiet in an instant, the voices around him going in and out.

He feels the cool ground beneath him and a burning sensation around his arm, the burning so hot that it felt almost cold - till it suddenly felt numb. 

_“Come on, Pete. It’s Sam, can you hear me? Stay with us.”_

Peter doesn’t know how to stay - he’s not even sure that he’s left, feeling detached from his body as everything starts to slow, the voices growing more and more distant however long he’s laying there.

His eyes are open… or maybe they’re closed, fuzzy shapes and blobs all swimming in and out of his vision. 

Peter can’t tell the difference, his mind still too warped from being pushed to the edge of infinity - the darkness closing in so encompassing that all he wants to do is rest. 

Time has a syrupy quality to it, if time even exists - feeling as if an eternity passes each second, the only distinction that Peter has that time has passed at all being from the voices around him - growing more worried and frantic as other sounds start to come into play.

“ _Shuri, we need--_

_“Brother, I know. Let me work.”_

_“We have to move him. We can’t— he’s gonna die if we don’t get him help.”_

_“Tony, we can’t move him. The gauntlet—“_

_“I don’t give a fuck about the gauntlet, Steve. Pete, come on, kid. Stay with us.”_

The numbness around his arm has a rippling effect, sharp pains shooting throughout his arm and his side - feeling his chest heave and his back arch, a rough hand on his forehead grounding him.

_“She’s hurting—“_

_“Let us work, Stark. This is beyond your—“_

_“You don’t get to tell me shit, Strange. This is your fault, you’re the one—“_

_“Stark, you gotta calm down-“_

_“If I want a glorified bird’s opinion, I’ll talk to the pigeons in Washington Park—“_

_“Now hold on—“_

_“Don’t tell me to—“_

Whatever is said next, Peter doesn’t catch it - his whole body seizing, feeling more and more hands all over him. _“What’s happening?”_

_“Wanda, can you—“_

_“Don’t touch—“_

_“—know what you’re—“_

_“—leeding internally.”_

The voices and sounds all around him grow dim, Peter feeling a pull towards someplace he’s never been - a peace washing over him that he’s never felt before.

_“Peter?”_

His mind is jumbled, everything swarming together in flashes as the feeling grows stronger - feeling himself get pulled somewhere else as memories flash. 

He sees May and Michelle, long nights in the kitchen - laughing about their days. 

He sees Sam, joking with him in group sessions with the people of New York.

He sees Shuri, their late nights back and forth - a sense of camaraderie with someone who understood him.

He sees Quill - smiling to him as if he didn’t have a care in the world.

And then he sees Tony - the image of him fading away into dust transforming into the awed expression on his face when he’d stumbled through the portal from Titan, Peter feeling any last vestiges of the world around him slowly starting to slip away. 

There’s a ringing in his ears, drowning out everything else - any semblance of being aware of where he was lessening by the second.

_“Peter… please.”_

It’s the last thing he hears, his body succumbing to the overwhelming need to rest - weightless as Peter lets himself fade into the unknown. 

* * *

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Awareness comes to Peter in waves. 

  
  
  
  
  
  


_He needs oxygen—_

  
  
  
  
  


Like water flowing over him, gentle and soothing as he gets pulled deeper into himself. 

  
  
  
  
  


_—not stable, blood pressure dropping._

  
  
  
  


After years of struggling - the urge to relax, to _rest_ was so strong - Peter wasn’t sure if he could fight it. 

  
  
  
  


_We’re losing him, get—_

  
  
  
  


A part of him wondered if he truly wanted to.

  
  
  
  


_Don’t do this, Pete. Don’t—_

  
  
  
  
  


There’s something in the back of his mind, a low and gentle whisper.

  
  
  
  


_Peter, if you can hear me—_

  
  
  
  
  


Quiet. Calm. The softest of voices - gently asking if he wanted to let go. 

  
  
  
  
  
  


_—ay with us, Pete. Stay with—_

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Peter drifts.

  
  


* * *

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Rest, Peter finds - doesn’t come easy.

There are still sounds, so much sound all around him - drifting in and out in waves. 

He feels everything and nothing all at once - registering in one moment that his arm still feels like fire and ice and and in the next, nothing - though some rational part of him whispers in the background says that it wasn’t a moment at all. 

His whole body feels weighted down by something - his hands, his legs, his head - the tugging to sink back into darkness an ever present sensation. 

There’s too much around him, like the first few days after he got his powers - his senses dialed up so much that Peter’s sure he can hear cars whizzing around as if they were beside him, hearing whispers in a language he didn’t understand. 

When it all starts to get too much, there’s immediate relief - as if all the sound was blocked out, though how anyone could be aware of what he was feeling, Peter didn’t know. 

Peter isn’t sure of what’s happening or why, not even quite sure if he was alive or dead. 

But anytime the world went quiet, he felt a chill run through his bones - something slowly crawling up his arms and his legs, weighing him down until it was impossible to hold on… drifting back off into a dreamless sleep. 

* * *

Awareness comes to Peter in waves. 

Less like it had been before, no longer with a pull to disappear into himself but more of a fight to break free - like seeing the sun through rippling water above him, reminding of all those summer days when he and Ben would go to the neighborhood pool. 

_“He’s doing great, all things considered”_ , he hears a voice say, one he vaguely recognizes, “ _his vitals are---“_

 _“Why isn’t he waking up? His healing kicked in for his arm but it’s been three weeks. What if we missed--”_ Another voice asks, a voice that sounds rough - as if it had just been crying, something Peter doesn’t understand why.

 _“We didn’t miss anything, Tony,”_ the first voice speaks again, quiet but firm as it says, _“our technology can only do so much.”_

It’s quiet, though for how long Peter doesn’t know - the pull to rest gently tugging him down again when he hears the second voice ask, _“What are you saying?”_

As the waves crash over him once again, sinking back into the deep and dark unknown, he barely hears the other person’s reply.

_“He has to want to wake up.”_

* * *

Awareness doesn’t come in waves but in spurts - brief pockets of time that Peter can’t make sense of.

He can hear beeping in the background, though it never stays around for long - the rhythm of it lulling him back to sleep over and over again.

When he is awake - if it could even be called that - he can sense the presence of people around him, each time he drifts feeling as if it’s someone else. 

The voices intermingle at first, like a low buzzing in the back of his mind - bits and pieces slipping in until Peter falls back into the deep.

 _“You’re going to be okay, Peter. We will do whatever we can for you,”_ a voice whispers, feeling another rush of something cool draping all over him.

 _“You’ve always been the best among us, Queens. You did good, kid,”_ another voice states, low and mixed with another that says, _“Hasn’t been a kid in years, Steve. You should’ve seen him… after everything.”_

Whatever the first voice says in reply, Peter doesn’t hear it - drifting out until there’s another voice in his ear. 

_“Doctor says if everything stays at is by the end of the week, you’ll be able stable enough to move, Pete. We’re uh, we’re gonna take you home alright?”_ The voice is low and rough, feeling a warm pressure on his forehead. _“May’s been asking about you and I can’t-- I don’t know what to say.”_

Peter drifts after that, lost to the darkness once more. 

The voice that whispers in the back of his mind - soothing, calm gentle - asks again if he wants to rest. 

And he could, he can feel it - just how easily it would be to _truly_ let go.

But then he’ll hear another voice, more whispers around him and it’s as if it’s a tug in another direction - asking him to stay. 

_“Pete? It’s me, sweetheart. It’s May,_ ” he hears a voice say, feeling soft hands on him once more, _“I’m right here, we’re all right here waiting for you.”_

It sounds like someone’s crying - Peter instinctively wanting to reach out to them but finding he can’t, the waves crashing over him as water droplets start to fall on his cheek - wondering for a brief second if he truly was in an ocean as the voice speaks again

 _“I’m not going anywhere, Pete. No matter how long it takes, we’re all going to be right here.”_

There’s a stifled sob, another voice - low, familiar - whispering in the background before the pull to sleep starts to encase him, though now there’s an urge that Peter can’t explain that reaches past the darkness. 

It reminds him of how it used to be in his dreams after Ben had died, running as fast as he could but being rooted in place - the thing he’s running towards just outside of his reach. 

Yet there’s a push to want to break free is stronger now, at least stronger than Peter’s ever felt - still feeling as if he’s weighted down and unable to move.

But now Peter wants to, the small voice in the back of his mind whispering the same question to him one final time. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


_Would you like to rest?_

  
  
  
  
  
  


Peter feels himself start to drift, the seconds that could’ve been hours crawling by when he finally whispers back.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


_Yes…_

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


_But not yet._

  
  
  


* * *

Awareness after that becomes sharper, clearer - as if his decision had unlocked something inside of him, though to anyone else - nothing had changed.

Peter was aware now that he was no longer in Wakanda, if only for the voices in the background whispering in English - the faint smell of antiseptic in the air intermingled with the sound of animals in the distance having his mind fill in the blanks. 

He’s… at the Compound, a theory that ends up being supported when he picks out another voice that he recognizes but hadn’t heard in over three years, Dr. Cho softly whispering, “His vitals are holding up well. Whatever the Wakandan medics have done--”

“But why isn’t he waking up?” He hears Tony ask, his voice sounding strained - Peter realizing that wherever they were in the building was far from his room. 

“I’m not sure, Tony. I spoke with Shuri and her team and it’s just as they said,” Cho says, sounding tired - Peter getting the distinct impression that they must have had this conversation or something similar to it before, “Those stones are powerful in a way that we can only dream of. I wish there had been some way we could’ve studied them--”

“You know we couldn’t do that. If some alternate Thanos found them, who knows what could’ve happened if they would’ve kept behind,” Tony replies, Peter feeling the same tugging sensation coming back to him.

It's not as strong this time but enough for him to recognize that his body wasn’t fighting against him but healing, forcing himself to sleep so that it could repair itself. 

“I know,” Cho says with understanding, “But as I’ve said before, without an understanding of how they work there’s really no way for us to know the effects it has on Peter’s system. We can see brain activity, he’s still in there…”

“Do you think,” Tony asks, his voice starting to grow distant as Peter feels himself drifting off again, “do you think he still wants to be?”

It’s a moment of vulnerability that Peter knows Tony would never ask to anyone other than someone who has treated Peter for years, barely hearing her reply before he fades back off into the deep. 

“I don’t know.”

They’re far away from his room, too far to see the soft twitch of his fingers - the act of it taking all of his strength before he’s forced back into a dreamless sleep.

_I do._

* * *

The darkness is less inviting now, less of a reprieve and more of a nuisance - Peter feeling that each moment that he drifts in and out that the moments where he’s aware, the more he has a grasp of what’s happening around him.

People come in and out, medics but also people he knows - Peter hearing bits and pieces of conversation as his mind tries to iron out the wrinkles of what had happened. 

“If you wanted a vacation kid, you could’ve just said,” Peter hears Sam say one afternoon - only registering that it’s the afternoon because of the way the sun feels on his legs, the passage of time blurring together less and less the longer he’s there. 

“I mean really, kid. It’s been what, three months now?” Sam says jokingly, even if Peter can tell that there’s an edge to it - joking as he always did to try and relieve the tension, “Stark’s starting to piss me off, you know. I forgot how much he irritated the hell out of me.”

Sam laughs again but it sounds sad, everything within Peter wanting to reach out and let him know that he’s there - that he hears him - but finding that he’s still too weak to do so, forced to listen as he speaks. 

“He’s just worried about you,” Sam says, “We all are. Wanda’s not doing too well.”

Peter hears Sam’s sigh, a creak from what Peter can only assume is Sam leaning back in the chair that he’s in as he says, “She blames herself, for Thanos showing up. Strange tried to tell her that it was inevitable, that he was always going to show no matter if it had been her or been us or you but,” he sighs again, “that didn’t really help.”

It’s something Peter had wondered - now that his mind was giving him the chance to, the days that inched by feeling more and more concrete - what had happened and why. It’s something that he’d picked up on during his… whatever he was doing now - bits and pieces of conversation that he’d overheard in the compound.

How Wanda had put more of a fight in New York to get the Time Stone, something that had tipped off the Chitauri and Thanos - a part of Peter wondering what that would mean for the world of that timeline. 

The details of time travel still felt fuzzy to Peter, remembering Shuri’s patient explanations to Bucky and to Sam as they prepared for their trip - only to feel a sting at how Quill had joked about it, bringing himself back to the present when Sam speaks up again. 

“We’re all pretty pissed off with him, to be honest. I don’t think Stark’s ever gonna forgive him, not if he knew…” Sam trails off, Peter hearing him sigh once more. 

He feels his hand on his arm, a soft pressure before Sam says, “You should’ve told us-- should’ve told _me_ , Pete. There had to have been some other way.”

Sam’s quiet before a beat, squeezing Peter’s arm gently, “But you know, I’ll think I’ll put it in my heart to forgive you. Just once, for saving the universe you little shit.”

Peter wants to smile, wants to say something back but finds that he can’t - no longer getting pulled into darkness and yet unable to move as Sam whispers, “You did good, Pete.”

Sam lets his hand fall.

“You did good.”

* * *

The moments where Peter is aware are constant now, enough that he feels - ever so slightly - that he has a handle on his limbs, feeling his fingers flex and his toes move. 

But whenever he does, no one is around to see it - making Peter start to wonder if he’s only imagining the movement, a fear that he’ll be trapped like this forever - lost to whatever effect the powers of the stone had over him. 

For a brief moment, he wonders if he should’ve listened to the voice that had whispered to him asking if he should let go - but then he quickly dismisses it, forced away just as quickly as it came - the more he hears the people he loves around him.

Especially, he finds - when he hears Michelle. 

Peter doesn’t have the most solid grasp of how much time has passed, only picking up context clues from the feel of the sun and how casual everyone is around him - getting the sense that Michelle came in for a few hours, leading him to believe that it was the weekend. 

She was quiet, Peter only recognizing her presence from the faint smell of her perfume - the sound of paper shuffling about.

He wanted to talk to her, to ask her what was happening - tell her how he felt, but he couldn’t.

It it took all of his concentration to try and acknowledge her presence - just as he tried for May and for Tony and for anyone else who came in - only for the effort to exhaust him as soon as he did, usually long after they’d left. 

He didn’t regret taking the gauntlet, he refused to - not when he could hear the birds around the compound grounds - the knowledge that the world had been made right a comfort in the background, even if there was a sinking feeling in the pit of Peter’s stomach that wondered if this was the consequence. 

Yet Peter refused to give up, trying as hard as he can every single time - willing for everyone around him to know the truth. 

_I’m here. I’m here._

_I’m still here._

* * *

The moment comes on a day that was just like any other, only significant in that Peter finally gets the chance to prove that he hasn’t left. 

Tony’s in the room, chattering on about something that Peter has stopped paying attention - focusing instead all on his attention on trying to move his fingers, open his eyes - something.

It was frustrating, Peter could feel his body - could hear his own heartbeat because of the monitor attached to him but also Tony’s, smelling the faint scent of coffee on his breath as Tony continued to ramble.

“Pepper’s been amazed at the work that Erlisha and the team have done. If you can believe it, she’s talking about _retiring_ ,” Tony says with a laugh, “Never thought I’d see the day when that woman would want to relax but… seems like you and everyone else had a handle on things.”

Tony grows quiet at that, as he always did when he’d mention the years that they’d all been gone - Peter registering the sadness in his tone as he says, “All I can think about is what you said, back on that ship. It-- it was a lot longer for you, Pete but…” Tony trails off, Peter pushing himself as much as he can to try and let Tony know that he was there, “you shouldn’t have had to do this alone. Any of it.”

It’s so close that Peter’s body feels like it’s vibrating, feeling the rush of relief when his finger twitches again like it had so many times before - only for Tony to continue like he hadn’t even seen it, Peter forcing himself to focus on opening his eyes and wondering if Tony had his closed - his voice sounding muffled like his head was in his hands. 

“It should’ve been me, kid. I should’ve been the one to-- to get that gauntlet, to get---” Tony cuts himself off, a sharp gasp - Peter immediately sensing the shift as Tony says, “Pete?”

Peter’s eyes are dancing under his eyelids, trying as hard as he can to try and open them. He can feel Tony’s presence get closer, crouched over him from the shadow he casts from the overhead light, “Pete? Is… Cho!?” Tony yells out.

And then the weight that’s there lifts, just barely - enough for Peter to slowly opens his eyes - seeing Tony’s right in front of him, a relief on his face that Peter thinks he hasn’t ever seen before.

“Pete, are you-- it’s okay. You’re okay, kid,” he whispers, Peter’s eyes blinking back at him lazily - finger still twitching as much as he can. 

He hears Cho rush in from the background, going to say something only to pause when she sees Peter’s eyes open - immediately calling in more medics to come in. 

But the effort to open his eyes has exhausted Peter, using all his strength to reach his fingers up as much as he can, seeing Tony’s eyes water as he notices and grasps it - holding on tightly as he says, “Pete.”

Peter tries to smile, his blinking starting to slow as he looks over to Cho - seeing a smile on her face his eyes start to flutter.

“We got you, Peter. Don’t worry, we got you.”

Peter doesn’t, forcing his eyes open again to almost comical effect - looking to Tony once more.

It takes everything within to move his fingers but he does, Tony squeezing his hand as if he understood the message as his eyes start to close. 

_I know._

* * *

When Peter wakes up again, he _feels_ lighter - waking up only to see May and Tony smiling on him, flanked on each side. 

It’s so reminiscent of all the times they’d done this before, back when he was sixteen and getting into problems that no teenager ever should have - blinking a few times at them.

“Hey kid,” Tony says softly as he leans forward, Peter hearing the thickness in his voice, “You know how to make a hell of an entrance.”

Peter tries to smile at that, his muscles still feeling sluggish. May goes to hold his hand, Peter looking down to see that it was the one that had held the gauntlet - raising an eyebrow at how it looks.

May must sense his confusion, smiling as she looks down to it and grips his hand even tighter as she says, “Cho thinks it was your healing, Tony could explain it better,” she nods towards him, Peter glancing at him only to see his awed expression - as if he still couldn’t believe he was awake - as May continues, “But she thinks the radiation in your system saved your life.”

It was something Peter himself had thought for a flash of a second - back when everyone was trying to decide who to snap. Peter pushes that away for now when May speaks again, “I thought I told you to come back in one piece.”

“I’m sorry,” Peter says, his voice cracking and his throat feeling raw, hearing Tony’s sharp laughter - turning to face him.

Tony’s eyes hold a world of emotions in them, some Peter recognizes for all the times he’s seen it mirrored in his own reflection - grief, joy, an overwhelming sense of relief. 

“God, kid. You don’t know how good it is to hear you say something,” he laughs, leaning forward, “But if you pull that kind of shit again, I don’t care how old you are. We’ll ground you.” 

May’s laughter rings throughout the room, Peter feeling a sense of peace wash over him as he smiles at the two of them.

“I missed you,” Peter says, Tony’s face falling. He had to know by now how long it had been, how long the world had been thrown into chaos. He remembers that Tony had been hurt, glancing down to his side as he asks, “Are you okay?”

Tony looks down before tightening his grip in Peter’s hands, locking eyes with Peter again as he says, “Oh yeah, I’m fine. Gonna take a lot more than a little stab wound to take me out.”

”Don’t let him fool you,” May says, “the man wouldn’t stay in bed worth a damn, despite what the doctor said.”

Tony waves that away with his free hand, even if Peter can see the tightness around his eyes. 

“Wakandan medicine is a miracle worker. Not even a scratch on me,” he says dismissively, focusing more on Peter.

”Can’t say the same for you, Pete,” Tony says, his throat sounding like something was in it as May squeezes Peter’s hand.

”I had to do it, I had to—“

”Peter,” May’s voice interjects before either Tony or Peter can speak, both of them turning to see the way her eyes glisten, “We almost lost you.”

Peter’s mouth goes dry, wanting to say something but May beats him to it as she says, “I’ve tried to make my peace with what you do every single day but when I got that call from Tony...” She trails off, both of them tensing as the memory.

Peter has no recollection of what those first few days had been like, only snippets and flashes of sensations that he can’t truly make sense of. But he won’t feel sorry for what he did, he can’t - knowing that if given the chance, he’d do it all over again.

He thinks of Quill then, the sacrifice he’d made - the irony that the two Peter’s left on Titan had been the ones in the end, to save the day.

But for some inexplicable reason, the universe had granted him the chance to live - one that he chooses to dwell on as he gently tugs at May’s hands.

”I’m okay, May. I’m right here,” he says, Tony letting out a huff.

”And right here is exactly where you’re staying. I wasn’t kidding Pete, I don’t care that you’re twenty-four—“

”Twenty-seven,” Peter interjects, Tony blinking a few times before shaking his head a few times.

”You’re still our kid, always will be,” Tony says affirmatively, Peter smiling at the two of them.

There was no telling how long recovery would be or how much was out there that Peter had missed. 

But he had both of them in his life again, a lightness that he hadn’t realized he’d missed. 

His own patchwork family was finally made whole again. 

Peter couldn’t believe his luck. 

* * *

More people come in and out after that, May and Tony never far from his side. 

It’s like a revolving door - Sam, Bucky and Steve playfully arguing, Wanda’s guilt feeling so large it looms, Shuri’s exclamations from the hologram that’s brought in - yelling at him in a way no one else had yet about choosing to use the gauntlet. 

Yet for each happy smile, each playful jab and glance - there’s someone missing from the festivities, someone Peter wants to ask about but can’t bring himself to - not when it feels as if every hero Peter’s ever known wants to come by and chat. 

But later in the evening, when it’s just he, May and Tony once again - he hears a knock at the door, his heart skipping a beat when he turns to it. 

“Come in,” May calls, Peter holding his breath instinctively, as if he already knew who it would be - or at least hoped - only for it to be confirmed when she walks in. 

Michelle immediately locks eyes with him, walking into the room with an awed expression on her face.

“It’s true,” she whispers, Peter staring at her and feeling like there was a lump in his throat - the two of them locked eyes with each other for what feels like an eternity until May clears her throat, Tony shifting to stand.

“We’ll uh, we’ll give you two a minute,” Tony says awkwardly, Peter wondering if he should introduce them only to remember that if it was true - if he’d been under for months - the two people he never could have ever expected to meet would be well-acquainted with each other.

That suspicion is confirmed when Michelle nods towards Tony, Tony patting her on the shoulder once before May smiles at the two of them, both her and Tony moving to make their way out of the room. 

All too soon, it’s just the two of them - Peter hating the fact that his heart was still connected for a monitor because of the increase in the beeping, barely holding back a smile at hearing Michelle’s heart start to beat a little faster too.

“MJ.”

It’s as if him speaking unlocks something within her, eyes still steadily trained on him as she walks forward - Peter feeling as if there air between them was electric, a thousand things passing between them as she sits in the chair May had just been in seconds before. 

“MJ,” Peter says once more, “I--”

“I knew you were going to do something stupid, I knew it,” Michelle interjects, Peter seeing the way her jaw trembles, grinding her teeth as she says, “I _knew_ you would do something like this.”

Peter doesn’t know what to say to that, eyes searching her face as she continues, “But I knew I couldn’t tell you not to go. You were gonna go anyway.”

“MJ, I’m sor--”

“Don’t apologize for something you’re not sorry for, Pete,” Michelle says, Peter seeing something in her eyes that he doesn’t recognize, “cause I know you. I know you’re not.”

His silence seems to be all the answer she needs, Michelle nodding once more as she closes her eyes, her shoulders sagging as she says, “God, Pete. They didn’t think you’d ever wake up. I didn’t-- I didn’t know if--”

She lets out a sharp exhale, opening her eyes only for Peter’s body to move on instinct - reaching a hand out. 

It feels like it stays there for an eternity before Michelle takes it, Peter immediately leaning forward and sitting up as he says, “I’m okay, MJ.”

“But you weren’t. And if you’d died and I didn’t… if I hadn’t…” 

Peter holds his breath, a hope bubbling up in his chest that he hadn’t dared to put a name to at her words, Michelle’s eyes shifting away from him for a second. 

“When they told me what you did… all I could think was that my last words to you were something so fucking stupid,” she lets out a sharp laugh, her eyes shifting back to Peter’s, “that you wouldn’t know…”

“Know what?” Peter asks, his voice barely above a whisper - seeing something shift in her expression as her eyes dance across his face. 

Michelle bites her lip, gaze moving down to his lips before leaning forward - Peter moving towards her as if it was on instinct, as if they’d done this countless times before even if for the two of them together, it was a first. 

Her lips are soft against his, Peter’s grip in her hand loosening as he shifts - Michelle bringing a hand up to his face.

He pulls back for a moment, seeing the shocked and slightly hurt expression on her face before he quickly asks, “Is this cause I almost died?”

Michelle laughs before rolling her eyes, leaning closer to him as he says, “No you dumbass.”

Peter smiles, pulling her in until their lips meet again - his eyes closing as he breathes her in. 

It’s as if a match has been lit, _years_ of unspoken affection igniting between the two of them - Peter finding his hands starting to get lost in her hair as she leans forward, her tongue brushing against his bottom lip until his heart rate monitor starts to beep faster - Michelle pulling back only for Peter to open his eyes. 

“Nice to know I have such an effect on you, Parker,” she says with a smirk, Peter smiling at her before pulling her in closer before whispering, “You always have, MJ.”

He kisses her once more, the sense of contentment he’d felt earlier washing over him once more. 

It was everything he hadn't let himself the chance to think about, a peace settling in his heart that made him feel that for the first time - he could truly breathe.

Peter had known his fate since the moment he’d seen Strange on Titan, a truth that he’d never let himself acknowledge until the moment it happened.

If that had been the end of him, Peter thinks it would have been worth it - knowing that Michelle had been right, he never would’ve been able to live with himself if he hadn’t done everything he could to bring everyone back.

But they were - May and Tony and billions of others - letting himself relax into Michelle’s embrace as her lips moved against his.

Peter would have willingly died for the universe if that’s what it needed - knowing a crucial part of any journey was its end. 

But it had given him the choice - to rest or to stay.

Holding Michelle in his arms, feeling the smile on her lips as he kisses her - Peter can’t help but feel that he truly - finally - could have both. 

* * *

  
  


SIX MONTHS LATER

“How’s it looking, Pete?” He hears Tony ask through the comms in his suit, Peter swinging through the air once more as the aerosol spray is released from his suit.

“I’m _definitely_ getting some funny looks from people,” Peter says with a smile, catching someone bring out their phone as he does a flip - skimming the water slightly before sending out another web, “but the fish should be good to go.”

“Good to know you’re keeping Jameson in business,” Tony says with a chuckle, “I’m sure you’ve missed his running commentary.”

“Totally,” Peter deadpans, swinging away from the harbor as he snaps the aerosol back into place before saying, “can’t wait to hear how he spins this.”

“Could always just send out a press release. Let them know that the pollution from—“

“Nah, it’s fine,” Peter interrupts, as he makes his way through the city, “it’s always good to have someone to keep you on your toes.”

Tony laughs at that, Peter smiling at the sound before hearing him say, “You’re just dead-set on making your life as difficult as possible aren’t you?”

“Wouldn’t be me, if I didn’t,” Peter says, glancing over to the SI building, “You still at the office?”

“Yeah waiting around for Pepper. We still on for dinner tonight? May isn’t _actually_ cooking right? That was a joke?” 

Peter laughs and shakes his head. only to remember that Tony can’t see him as he swings towards his apartment, “Nah don't worry, MJ and I got everything settled. She’s bringing the meats and I’m bringing the pasta. She actually might get there before I will since her place is closer.”

“You know your commute could be cut in half too by now,” Tony says, Peter hearing the smile in it as he rolls his eyes.

“Come on, Tony. I already get that from May,” Peter says as he swings, “not you too. We’ve only been dating for—“

“I’m just saying, kid. You find a woman like that, you don’t let her go.” Tony laughs, his voice muffled a bit when Peter hears another through the line, “Speaking of, Pepper says hi.”

Peter just smiles and shakes his head, “See you in a little bit.”

“Bye Pete, love you.” 

“Love you too,” Peter says as he hangs up the call, swinging with even more purpose - letting the wind rush around him as he sighs.

The sun was setting over the city, a mix of orange and red all reflecting off the windows of apartment buildings and restaurants - Peter letting out a whoop as he does a flip, sending out another web with a smile on his face.

Five years since the end of everything - almost a year since the _beginning_ \- and Peter still couldn’t believe his luck, the impossibility of the universe that he was right back in the city he loved, a whole world mending itself as best it could.

In his wildest dreams, Peter never could’ve dreamed that this would ever be his reality, the chance to have his whole family safe and whole - new shades of love burrowing itself into the corners of his heart.

The world would never be as it had been - it never could go back to normal, the far reaching effects of the second snap manifesting in ways that none of them could have imagined.

But Peter could handle it, would willingly take it all on - the pollution in the water, the crowded mess that the subway was, the legal problems that Michelle vented about to him in the middle of the night.

Peter smiles as he swings, propelling himself forward. 

It was messy, dirty work - just as exhausting as it had been after the first snap, but this time inexplicably filled with more hope - the promise now that there was so much more to look forward to. 

Peter sends out another web, swinging past a corner when he feels it - the rush of being suspended in the air - seconds where the momentum carried him, lifting him as the sounds of the city faded away, closing his eyes to rest in it.

It was physics - kinetic energy in motion, a protracted free-fall. 

But to Peter it felt like flying.

And for once in his life, the universe hadn’t brought him to his knees…

For once, Peter felt as if he could finally have the chance to soar. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos and comments are always appreciated!!

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [You Can Hear It (In the Silence)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24263962) by [seekrest](https://archiveofourown.org/users/seekrest/pseuds/seekrest)




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